


Entwined

by heyjayyay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 3x07, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon, Canon Divergent, Canon Related, Clexa, Commander Lexa, Entwined, Eventual Smut, F/F, FIx It, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt and comfort, Linctavia - Freeform, Memory Loss, Multi, Other, PTSD, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Protective Clarke, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Soulmates, The 100 - Freeform, The 100 Femslash, braven, clexa non-au, clexa sex, clexa sin, non-au, sin - Freeform, soft lexa, soft sin, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 83,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjayyay/pseuds/heyjayyay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just another illusion, she tells herself. But this one was too vivid. And this time, there was no blood. It couldn’t be. </p><p>She wants to turn and run, yet her feet carried her closer.</p><p>It’s not real. She repeats. It can’t be.</p><p>But then she hears it. That voice. The one she couldn’t even bring her own subconscious to imagine hearing anymore.</p><p>And then, those green eyes sparkled, lips turned up parting slightly, and she hears a laugh. Her laugh. </p><p>And Clarke knows…</p><p>----</p><p>Or, it's been months since Clarke returned from Polis, a broken and shattered mess. Bellamy has been pining after her for some time, trying desperately to make amends, but she can't bring herself to open her heart up to anybody else. One day, he tries a little too hard, causing her to push him away completely, running from her problems and straight into a pair of familiar green eyes. It can't be. Can it?</p><p>(Picks up after 3x07)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Stay in touch!  
> Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07BB6DFXN  
> Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17449889.Jessica_Yeh  
> Facebook: facebook.com/JessicaYehWrites/  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds a familiar face in the midst of her wandering. A face that brings her back to the ground. Back to a million memories and more.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Entwined by Jason Reeves

Night after night. It was all she could see. All she could dream. And all she could feel. _Green and green. A flash white. Then black. Black… flowing endlessly. Suffocating._

 But tonight was different. Tonight, for the first time in months, she slept and didn’t wake up with tears in her eyes. It was a start.

 She took it as a sign that today was going to be different. Something inside her just knew it would be.

“How did you sleep?” Bellamy asks her the next morning, as he routinely did.

 “I’m still tired.” She responds flatly. _So damn tired._

They were cordial, but he still acted as though he were walking on eggshells when he was around her. Every morning, he would pass by her room, asking how she had slept, before escorting her to the mess hall where they would eat in silence. Well, he would eat. She would simply push her food around on her plate for a while until he had finished.

He never pushed her, none of them did. They didn’t really understand what happened. How could they? Murphy had urged the others not to ask. She was grateful for that. Because even he didn’t understand the extent of what happened.

No one could ever understand her the way that Lexa does. _Did._ She reminds herself.

There was no way for anybody to _really_ have known what had occurred. They just knew that one day, Clarke finally decided to leave Polis, and not with Octavia. And when she returned, she was different; even more broken than when she first left Arkadia those many months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago. When she had a completely _different_ life.  

The other thing that citizens of Arkadia knew was that Lexa, Commander of the 13 Clans, was now dead. Where Clarke fit into that was still ambiguous, but it was clear that the loss had really torn her apart.

Of course, the actual story behind the Commander’s demise was kept a secret; for fear that exposing her weakness could be used to conspire against any successors, causing him or her to fall as well. If only they knew what real weakness was. Not love, but hope. Hope occurs when a commander, who is taught to be alone, finally finds _more,_ a greater reason to live, an inspiration to lead; a purpose. That is what hope is. Hope, by the name of “Clarke Griffin.”

_Clarke Griffin, Wanheda - Commander of Death._

Everyone she’s ever cared about, ever loved, died because of her. She forces another tear back, swallowing hard; a habit she had inevitably picked up from Lexa herself.

“Clarke,” Bellamy clears his throat.

She doesn’t speak, but slowly raises her eyes to almost meet his. They settle on his freckles instead. He takes that as close enough and continues.

“I know that you’re hurting.” He says. “And I know that I am part of the reason for that.”

 _Don’t flatter yourself._ She thinks. She hurts for one person and one person only.

“But I want to make it up to you.” He reaches for her hand and she feels like she’s going to implode. “I want to do right by you. Please let me.” He caresses her knuckles and she pulls away, unable to stand the physical contact any longer.

“I’m not ready.” She shakes her head.

 _Not yet._ She remembers. She tries to push away the thought of Lexa’s shattered expression. But something inside her always knew that in time, she could be. And she was. Months later, with guiding green eyes, she gave the Commander of 13 Clans all of her, Wanheda, Skaikru, and Clarke. She was the only person that Clarke ever felt ready with.

But with Bellamy it was different. “Not yet” really meant “ _not ever_.”

He nods disappointingly and lets her go.

“I think I need some air.” She says, pushing her plate aside. In time, she knew that either he or Monty would come along to devour her leftovers anyway.

Exiting the gates of Arkadia, her feet carry spontaneously.

It had been months, five at least, possibly more. She isn't sure. She’d lost track of the empty days, when the sun would rise and fall in the same blinding manner. She wishes she could walk straight into it, over the horizon and fall off the edge. Too bad the world was round and it would only lead her in a circle; cycling mindlessly. _Back to her._

She wishes above all else that in walking there, she’d find that flame, a flame, something. Maybe walking into the sun would finally be hot enough to warm her frozen heart.

“Clarke!” She hears someone calling after her. She pivots on the dirt road, turning in time to see her mother running after her.

“Where are you going?” Abby asks, concern laced in her voice. No matter how many times Clarke has gone for a walk since the incident, Abby still asks, her tone still just as worried.

“I just need to go for a walk.” She replies.

She looks like her pitifully. They all want to help, she knows that, but they can’t. No matter how great a doctor her mother was, there was no way for her to have saved Lexa.

“When will you be back?” Her mother asks. Clarke knows she’s worried that she might not come back. Again. But she doesn’t have a place she’d be able to go to anyway. No place for refuge. No place to call home.

“I’m not sure.” She shrugs. “But I’ll be back by dinner.” She promises.

Abby offers to escort her, asking her time and time again if she was ready. She wasn’t. But she knew years from now, she still fully wouldn't be.

She’s given a radio and a sad kiss on the cheek.

“Be safe.” Her mother pleads.

_You’re safe._

If she were here, Clarke wouldn’t have to worry about hearing those words.

\---  
  
She walks until she can't tell what direction she had taken, coming upon a small Trikru village a few miles outside of the Polis walls. Clarke wills herself to take a step forward. It’s the first time she’d interacted with any sort of grounder, minus Octavia and Lincoln, since it happened.

Despite herself, she veers towards the remote town.

The stalls are smaller, less grand than those in Polis. And she’s thankful. She doesn’t want to be reminded any more than she needed to be; reminded of a place she called home, almost. _Her almost._

From the corner of her eye, a flash of red catches her attention.

Not again. She thought she was done with this. She thought things were getting better. At least, until breakfast. Turning her head towards the stall, her breath gets caught in her throat.

It’s just another illusion, she tells herself. But this one was too vivid. And this time, there was no blood.

_It couldn’t be._

She wants to turn and run, yet her feet lead her closer.

 _It’s not real._ She repeats. _It can’t be._

But then she hears it. That voice. The one she couldn’t even bring her own subconscious to imagine hearing anymore.

And then, those green eyes sparkle, lips turn up parting slightly, and she hears a laugh. _Her laugh._

And Clarke knows…

Before she can process anything else, she’s looking at the girl, red sash tied around the waist of her dark tunic.

“Hey.” She says awkwardly, standing in front of the stall. She looks at her expectantly and Clarke can’t help but notice how much younger she looks.

“Hello.” She greets. “What can I do for you?” Her eyes look innocently at her.

 _You’ve already done everything. More than enough_. She wants to say.

Instead she blinks stupidly, feet stuck to the ground. She wants to leave, she really does, but she can’t. Her whole body has gone stiff.

“Hey.” She says dumbly.

“Hello.” The girl giggles and all Clarke can do is stare. “You said that already. Is there anything you’re interested in?” She gestures to the various candles and goods.

_Candles. Of course. She would be selling candles._

Clarke keeps staring.

Lexa looks down at her fingers brushing them nervously over the blade of the knife in her hand. It had the same handle as her dagger. Clarke can practically feel the bile rising in her throat. Lexa places the tool down next to the candle she had that had been whittling at moments ago.

Clarke's gaze follow deft hands, those hands that once protected her, held swords, killed countless men. Those hands, harsh and calloused, yet soft enough to hold her broken heart, the same hands that worshipped her in a bed of furs, enwrapped in shy, tender kisses.

Lexa finally looks up and their eyes meet. She seems to be studying Clarke’s face, eyes scanning hers for something.

“Do I know you?” She asks, confused.

Clarke clears her throat. She doesn’t understand what’s going on. But this _is_ Lexa. It’s her _. It has to be._

“I’m Clarke.” She responds, unsure of what else to say. She couldn’t just say ‘hey’ yet again.

Her face breaks into a smile. “Hello, Clarke. I’m…”

“Lexa.” Clarke finishes for her. “I know.” It’s the first time she’s said her name out loud. It feels like fire.

“Are you here to buy something?” She asks curiously. Clarke forces herself to tear her gaze away, surveying the stall for the first time.

 “Uhh yeah.” She sees one with a tribal sun carved into it. _Lexa’s headpiece._

“I’ll take this one.” She begins scavengering her bag for some sort of something to trade, only to turn up empty handed. She searches it again, despite knowing it would yield the same results.

 In her frenzy, she doesn't notice that the girl has come around from behind the stall, candle wrapped in a thin layer of red velvet, placing a hand on Clarke’s forearm. She was absolutely aflame.

“It’s okay.” She says softly.

 Clarke’s mind immediately returns back to the woods when she had been startled awake by the _pauna_.

_She says it the same way._

 “This one is free.” Lexa offers. “Consider it a gift.”

 “I owe you.” Clarke returns. _I owe you so much._ She thinks.

 The girl gives her a soft smile, shaking her head. “May we meet again, Clarke.” She says, turning her attention to another customer.


	2. The Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke needs answers and she damn well knows where to get them.
> 
> Soundtrack: Shame On You by Jacob Whitesides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @heyjayyay  
> Tumblr: hejayyay.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: @heyjayyay
> 
> Come talk to me about it.

Clarke returns to Arkadia in a daze. As she approaches, she sees him and she grips the candle in her bag. He’s been waiting for her to return, always hover, suffocating…

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes once they are standing across from one another. She holds her hand up to stop him from saying any more. She knows he’ll ramble and right now she couldn’t handle any more information.

“I need…” Time? Space? She doesn’t know. But she does. _She needs answers and she needs Lexa._

He nods in understanding and places a hand on her shoulder.

“I know.” He sighs before retreating.

She unclenches her fists, realizing that her left hand had still been clasped around the waxy material. She has a thousand questions and there’s only one person who has the answer.

She steers toward the main building of Arkadia and goes looking for Kane, who has since been dubbed Chancellor again. After Pike had been overthrown, he was imprisoned and Marcus was reelected. Things weren’t perfect, but they were working on maintaining a respectable relationship within the Coalition.

She walks into his office unannounced.

“When are Lincoln and Octavia visiting again?” She asks.  
  
He stands from the desk, walking toward the digital vector board where maps have been projected. His fingers trace two X’s, approximate locations of the two.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “The last I heard from them was when they were to bring supply to Azgeda territory.” Marcus taps the monitor, indicating their whereabouts. “Why? What’s going on?”  
  
She doesn’t have time to explain. Nor does she know how to. “Can you radio Indra? I need someone to take me to Polis.”

There’s a fire in her. Something has lit a light in her eyes.

“Polis?” he practically stumbles over his own chair, now standing in front of her with a concerned look. He’s been hanging around her mother too much. They all look at her the same way. The only person who looked at her differently, like she was special was… _Is?_

Her head starts spinning at the possibilities and Marcus seems to sense it.

“Clarke, are you sure?” He braces her shoulders, looking her square in the eye. “Why are you going there?”

“I need to talk to the Titus.” She snaps out of it and says with determination.

“Clarke,” He’s genuinely concerned. She knows. “I don’t know if that’s…”

“I. Need. To. Talk. To. Titus.” She enunciates forcefully. “Now.”

He sighs, nodding. He reaches into his back pocket signaling his radio. The Chancellor and high esteemed Trikru general had since begun to reestablish their bond, with Octavia being the thread that held the two people together in the beginning. Slowly forgiveness blossomed into friendship. _Isn’t that how it always began?_

“Indra,” Marcus speaks. “Are you there?”

A clicking sound before she responses. “I am here, Kane.”

“Indra, I need you to do me a favor.” He requests. “Can you get an escort for Clarke to Polis?”

“Clarke?”

She detects the surprise in her voice, even through the crackling static. Clarke grasps the radio, which is still in the Chancellor’s hand and lowers her lips. “It’s important.” She speaks directly into the device.

Indra pauses before responding back. “I will send a rider to be there by sundown.”

She nods, though Indra cannot see her.

“I’ll be ready.”

Within the hour, she has a bag packed. After being fussed over by Abby, Kane, and Bellamy, she finally frees herself and waits by the gate for the escort to arrive.

He does so atop a dark chestnut steed with another lighter one being held by the reins.

“Wanheda,” He greets. “Your horse.” He hands her the ropes and she pulls herself up. He is silent and Clarke can’t recall if he even mentioned his own name. Maybe he had, but she hadn’t been paying attention. After all, her mind was swirling with question as they trotted along steadily. A part of her desperately wanted to whip the reins and bolt at full speed toward the capital, but the other half of her was still in shock.

Why hadn’t Lexa seemed to have recognized her?  
How did she get there?  
Does she still feel the tingle of her lips on hers?  
Why had she carved _that_ symbol?  
Why were her eyes _still_ so entrancing?

Clarke all but flung herself from her horse as the Polis gates were pulled open. She handed the reins over to the rider, giving him a nod before storming through the streets. She was sure some of the people had recognized her, possibly wanting to speak to her, but she was on a mission and was walking too fast to be stopped.

“Titus!” She barges through the door of the Flamekeeper’s chamber, slamming it shut behind her. He’s sitting at the table hunched over a tattered script. He looks up in shock.

“Clarke… I…” He stutters. He hadn’t been expecting her, especially in such a state. “How did you get in here?”

She ignores the question and steps into his room. The last time they saw each other was after the Conclave. She watched Titus carry her lover’s body away, lifeless. Murphy had flung himself at the door, attempting to follow, but she was stuck in place, frozenly staring at the furs that were slowly growing darker and darker.

A few hours later, a hand-maiden came to clear the scene, replacing the furs on the bed and sweeping away shattered vase. It was like nothing had ever happened. Except it did. And she knew. She knew because that was the first time the tower actually felt like a prison. Aside from the hand-maidens and the occasional food and water, she was captive in the room full of gun shots and tears. After three days, they were given a pair of horses and a map with directions back to Arkadia.

“I need you to explain everything that happens when a new commander is chosen.” She demands.

“You saw her.” He says. It’s not a question. “You were never meant to see her again.” He says quietly.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She growls, eyes narrowed and piercing, she slams her palms on his desk, hovering over him.

“Clarke,” He tries to keep his temper level and Clarke can see the vein in his forehead straining. _He promised he wouldn’t harm her._ “Please try to understand…”

"Understand?! Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice elevates as she tries her best to articulate her thoughts without completely losing it as well.

“Please, calm down.” He holds both hands up to show that he really doesn’t mean any harm.

“Calm down? You want me to _calm down_? You tried to kill me!” She shouts. “With my own damn weapon! A weapon that you shouldn’t have even been touching in the first place!”

She wants him dead. Almost.

_Did that make you feel better?_

She remembers Lexa’s words and tries to see past the flames of red.

“It was in the best interest of…” He knows what she’s thinking. It doesn’t make her feel any better.

“No.” She says coldly. “It wasn’t. Lexa knew that. And if you would have believed in her, she would still be here.”

“She _is_ still here.” He replies back all too calmly.

Clarke pauses, her chest puffing in and out in an attempt to calm her raging heart.

She had gone from feeling nothing to everything in the space of just a day.

“Start talking.” She crosses her arms and waits.

He gestures for her to take a seat in one of the chairs, but she refuses. He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to gather his thoughts.

“When a commander’s body has been used,” he begins. “has served its purpose and its people, the spirit is removed to be passed on. The spirit decides on its next successor through the Conclave and the most successful _Natbleeda_  will then become its keeper. The ceremony to join the two, when the successor receives the spirit is known as his or her Ascension Day.” Titus explains. “Once this is complete, the previous commander’s body is then freed to their title.”

“Commander of the Blood.” Clarke wasn’t following. “What do you mean?”

“The spirit blesses each commander with a gift. Lexa’s was new blood.” Titus continues. 

 _A transfusion_. She thought to herself.

"The body is freed should fate allow it. The process is long enough as it is, and Lexa’s gift was one that I had never assisted in before. It required the elaborate work of healers and spiritual beings to attempt it. We were not sure if it would ever work. But when it had, I had hoped by the time that she was strong enough to return, you would be in Arkadia.”

“You couldn’t have expected me to stay in Arkadia forever.” She asserts.

Titus shakes his head in disagreement. “I did, as Arkadia is your home and they are your people. It is where you belong.”

She grits her teeth.

“You don’t know anything about me, or my home.” She spits venomously. 

_Home was here, in Polis. With Lexa._

But with Lexa gone, the tower seemed just like another building. It may have had a roof, but it was no longer her shelter.

He sighs again, clearly trying to abide by his promise to Lexa on her deathbed. “Come,” He gestures for her to follow. “You need to meet someone.” He turns without another word, pausing at the door until he hears  footsteps following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who defaced by Lexa artwork, float yourself. Seriously. That was tribute, not a way for you to be shitty and make fun of a dead character.


	3. The Title

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pardon me, Heda.” Titus excuses. 
> 
> The sound of him addressing someone else with that title, her title, made Clarke clench her fist as she willed herself to focus her attention on something else. 
> 
> “I have a visitor for you.” He announces to the figure.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles

She trails cautiously as they walked, guards occasionally bowing their heads in recognition.

She used to stroll through this place like she’d belonged there, lived there her whole life.

She lifts her chin the way she knew Wanheda would. She still held that title, but nobody called her that in Arkadia. And she hadn’t had contact with the grounders since it happened. She wasn’t sure how much had changed. She wishes she could hear Lexa announcing her title to the clans in during their gatherings. The way she spoke the word made her feel invincible, but now the name feels tarnished, heavy, cursed.

They approached the throne room and Clarke’s heart began to pound. She isn't sure if she was going to see Aden or so other young child on those wooden branches. She wasn’t sure she could handle it. The guards opened the doors, giving Titus a nod of recognition. Standing in the doorway, blue eyes land on a brunette with back facing them as she gazed out over the window. The sight was eerily familiar.

“Pardon me, Heda.” Titus excuses.

The sound of him addressing someone else with that title, _her title,_ made Clarke clench her fist as she willed herself to focus her attention on something else.

“I have a visitor for you.” He announces to the figure.

Her hair is brown, but much darker than Lexa’s. It doesn't have that same golden glow when standing in the sun. Or maybe it wasn’t her hair. Maybe it was just Lexa that seemed to illuminate. If she were being honest, it _definitely_ was.

The young woman stood with her hands be her sides, rather than behind her back. She was shorter than Lexa too, more petite. As much as she wished it was going to be Lexa behind those doors, she knew it wasn’t going to be.

The young woman tilts her head to the side, speaking over her shoulder. “Come forth.”

Clarke’s eyes widen when she caught a glimpse of the scars on her face.

“Ontari.” She gasps.

The girl stiffens, turning slowly at the sound of Clarke’s voice.

“Clarke Kom Skaikru” She greets cautiously.

 _She won’t be back until the Conclave after my death._ The words buzz in her ears.

“You’re the new commander?” She gawks.

Ontari reveals a small smile. “To what do I owe the honor?” She inquires.

“Clarke is here because she has some questions.” Titus explains. Ontari seems to understand and nods.

“Leave us.” She says.

Clarke’s chest tightens. Maybe she really does have the Spirit in her.                                       

“Come, join me.” Ontari gestures to the space beside her.

Clarke ascends the stairs, her eyes cast downward.

“What is it that you should like to know, Clarke?” She says her name with the same fragileness, like she might break if she wasn’t careful, every letter pronounced with care.

Tears threaten to fall and she glances to the side, blue eyes tracing the twists and turns of the branches of Lexa’s… of the Commander’s throne.

“Clarke?” Ontari asks again, even gentler than the first time. Clarke still can’t respond. A cold finger touches her chin, turning her face to her. Their eyes meet for the first time and that’s when she sees it.

Ontari looks at her the same way Lexa did, but with brown eyes instead of green.

_Compassion._

“She does not remember you.” Ontari says sadly, seemingly reading Clarke’s thoughts. “Her memories are a part of me now, though I don’t have access to them, I know that you were special to her.”

“How is that possible?” Her voice cracks. She knew that what they had was special, but to have it finally be acknowledged by someone else made her feel like her heart was being broken all over again.

“I can feel it.” Ontari gently takes Clarke’s wrist, placing her palm over her own chest, allowing Clarke to feel the steady beat of her heart.

“The spirit encapsulates our memories, and the good ones are kept and used to bring life and strength to the next commander.” Ontari elaborates. “When I ascended, I was the strongest Commander our people had ever witnessed. I believe it is because of you. Lexa was a visionary. She believed in mercy, in forgiveness, in _love_. She believed in _you_. And that is what gave her strength. The happiness she felt is what made me strong.”

Clarke is trembling and Ontari places her hand over Clarke’s pressing it further to her chest.

“Let me ask you, Clarke, were you the last person Lexa was with when her spirit was taken?”

Clarke nods, trying not to let the memories flood back. Memories of those lips growing colder, pressed to hers. She tries to push away the memory of the tears in Lexa’s eyes as she whispered her last words.

_You were right, Clarke. Life is about more than just surviving._

She pulls her hand away and Ontari looks saddened but not surprised.  “Her love was strongest as she took her last breath.” The brunette says kindly.

The blonde swallows hard.

“Do you know with title the Spirit blessed me with?” Ontari coaxes.

Clarke shakes her head.

“Natskaiheda, Commander of the Night Sky.” Ontari translates. “A dedication to you. My rein, my title, it is all sworn to you.” She promises. “Lexa visits me constantly, and she always reminds me to take care of you. I have been waiting for the day that you return with the need.”

“But the girl that I saw…?” Clarke questions.

“She is still her, in a sense.” Ontari pauses. “Her veins course with red. This life will be her last.”

“She’s mortal.” Clarke states, slowly trying to piece the concept together.

 _It’s my turn to protect you_. _I’ll make sure you live this time._ Clarke makes a silent vow of her own to the girl she saw in the village.

Ontari nods. “She still bears the physical body of the commander, but she does not know of her past. If a commander’s body can be saved, he or she is usually sent to remote villages, where they would not be recognized. It is unfortunate that you had to meet her in this way.”

_It’s not unfortunate. It’s fate._

Clarke blinks back tears. Lexa doesn’t remember anything, yet memories are all Clarke can ever think about. They’re all she has to hold on to.

Ontari seems to be able to read her mind yet again and her eyes soften. “Is she well?”

“She sells candles.” Clarke says dumbly. It’s all she can offer. That’s all she knows about this new Lexa.

Ontari chuckles. “I am not surprised. Some things are too hard to erase, even residual habits.”

They stand in silence for a moment, looking out the window at the city below them.

Bells and carts shuffle by, clanging and clobbering against the dirt roads. The sound of metals scorching, hammers banging, and food sizzling can be heard faintly in the air. It hangs below them. It’s a world of peace, too far from the tower, out of reach from the completely different atmosphere up in the tower; a world of politics and strategy and fealty. But life in Polis seemed to go on as if nothing had ever happened, nothing had changed. But it had. _Everything has changed._

“Are you aware of _Sonchageda_?” Ontari finally speaks again, expression more serious.

“The City of Light?” Clarke confirms. She had heard her mother mention it. She knew it was somehow tied to the infinity symbol, but the details were unclear to her.

“It still exists.” Ontari sighs. “But the previous commanders quarrel about it quite a bit. Lexa mostly.”

“Why?” Clarke asks. She’s heard of the conflicting arguments for or against the use of the pills, but never bothered to pay much attention to them. She didn’t want to be reminded of anything relating to Lexa. She already had enough memories to drown her for eternity.

“She wants to destroy it.” Ontari grips the sword hanging in its sheath from her belt.

“What good would that do? That’s where all the commanders are.” Clarke had picked up on some grounder culture during her days in Polis, but the magnitude of significance the city held was never made clear to her until the day that Lexa…

_It hurt too much to say, even just to herself._

“Yes. It eliminates pain.” Ontari adds.

“Why is that bad?” Clarke wonders. If anything, that’s where Lexa is alive and if Clarke had a way to get there, she would do anything to see her again.

“Commander Lexa believes that pain must be felt to feel true happiness; to experience both light and dark, good and bad, hopelessness and hope.”

Clarke could see Ontari’s expression being taken over by parts of Lexa, the left corner of her mouth turning upward into a crooked smile.

She tears her gaze away, overwhelmed. It’s even more apparent that Lexa’s spirit is now embodied within Ontari.  She doesn’t know how to cope with it.

“But if she destroys it, how will you choose the next commander?” Clarke tries to focus back on the conversation.

“The way yours are chosen.” Ontari shrugs. “By voting.”

“And you’re not worried?” Clarke asks, referring to the clash of cultural values.

 _It is our way._ Lexa had taught her so much about their traditions, sitting in the comfort of the Commander’s bedroom, sunlight pouring through the curtains as they spoke in hushed, intimate whispers. These were their moments and theirs alone, hidden away behind closed doors; just two girls, Clarke and Lexa, no titles and no responsibilities, simply learning one another.

“I am terrified.” Ontari shakes her head. “But we are already on the path to change. I must continue to fulfill the vision of my predecessor.”

Her _heda_ mask slips even further and Clarke can read the conflict etched in her brows. Maybe there was reason Ontari was chosen. Though she was never taught in Polis, she seemed to understand Lexa’s teachings all the same. She admits to being scared, feels her emotions fully, exhibits loyalty, and based on how quickly she was able to catch Clarke in her plans to sabotage the Ice Queen, she was definitely cunning and smart. She had no doubt that Ontari, though new to the position, could comprehend the need for peace and the visionary ideals Lexa had bestowed upon her. It wasn’t drilled into her, it was innately in her soul.

“Let me help.” Clarke says after a beat.

“Clarke.” Ontari’s voice becomes stern, another hint of Lexa shows through.

“Ontari. Let. Me. Help.” She puts her foot down, taking a step into the girl’s space, challenging her to counter her.

Ontari doesn’t waver and instead speaks in warning. “If you are to go to _Sonchageda_ , you will see her again and you may not be able to leave.”

It has more than one meaning.

“I know.” She says firmly, though her heart is wavering. Ontari sees right through her. Or maybe it’s the Lexa in her. _It’s probably Lexa._

“Think this over.” Ontari says. “I can give you time. If, in a week, you still feel the same, I will grant your request.”

“Thank you.”

Ontari nods. “You may stay in your old room if you wish. I can have it arranged to your liking. It is almost sundown. You should not be traveling at night, no matter what if we are in a time of peace, it is better to be safe. I would accompany you if I could, but there are duties that need to be attended this evening. I’m sorry.” She apologizes.

_The next commander will protect you._

She can tell that Ontari is doing what she has been told to, what Lexa had promised her she would.

Clarke tells her not to bother with preparing the room. She’ll take it as it is. She thanks Ontari who then summons the guards outside the door to give Clarke free rein within the tower.

“Goodnight, ambassador.” Ontari whispers. Clarke hears, but pretends not to. She can’t bring herself to return the goodbye, even if it were Lexa speaking to her through Ontari, it wasn’t the same.

With her back turned, she lets her tears fall as she leaves.

 


	4. The Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn’t look to her right. She can’t. She knows what’s there. And what’s not.
> 
> Soundtrack: Weak by Daphne Khoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and a little angsty, but I'm still emotional. And today is The 100 day. 
> 
> Btw, I totally have a hamster named Lexa. Is that bad? heyjayyay.tumblr.com/tagged/heda+ham

When she sees the familiarly cracked doors, she freezes. It didn’t occur to her until now that the damage in the door resembled a bullet hole.

Her throat swells shut.

Staying in her old room was a bad idea.

Her palms are sweaty as she pushes the doors open, closing behind her all too loudly. Everything in the room seems stark, frozen in place. She surveys the sofa and chairs, the candles unlit on the table. It feels cold and empty. _She_ feels cold and empty.

She doesn’t look to her right. She can’t. She knows what’s there. _And what’s not._

_The Commander is dead. May her spirit choose wisely._

His voice booms in her mind as a blanket of white enwraps her, slowly drowning in black. She leans against the wall, trying to steady herself. The room is spinning and she lurches forward to pick up a match from the small table lighting it and the various candles around the room. It needs to be filled with light, with love, with Lexa.

The last candle sits by the bed. Clarke wills herself to take a step towards it. Her hands are shaking and unsteady. Despite the shaking, her mind is paralyzed. It takes her multiple attempts to finally reach out, holding the match to the wick, flame dancing around it in a lucid movement.

She knows she should sleep. She’s exhausted. She’s _always_ exhausted. But the thought of climbing into that bed, even with the furs now cleaned, strangles her heart. Instead she places a few candles on the floor, and lays down by the left side of the bed in the same place she stood when they said their final goodbye.

Her fingers trace her lips as fresh tears spill from her eyes.

_May we meet again._

She remembers staring. Staring for a ridiculously long amount of time as Murphy watched her hesitantly. She stood there staring until her legs gave out. She pushed him away and cried.

She cried for Lexa, the girl, not the Commander.

She cried for Lexa, the girl who was built and manipulated into a political puppet to satisfy her people.

She cried for Lexa, the girl who never knew the joy of getting drunk and dancing until she couldn’t stand anymore.

She cried for Lexa, the girl who would never experience the thrill of chasing radioactive butterflies in the forest.

She cried for Lexa, the girl with green eyes, full of more love than she could possibly contain.

She cried for Lexa, the girl who was a lover in a fighter’s world.

She cried for Lexa, the girl who embodied everything Clarke wanted and needed and no longer had.

She cried for Lexa, the girl who Clarke Griffin had slowly and inevitably fallen love with.

Clarke realizes she’s no longer crying, but sobbing. Crying was something she always did. When all had retired for the night, she would let silent tears fall, cascading onto her pillow, some nights, longer than others, but she still _always_ cried. It was the only way she could get herself to fall asleep. Clarke’s nights in Arkadia are spent curled in a ball surrounded by metals and electrical lights wishing desperately to feel the brush of the wind and the warm of candles on her skin. And so she  cries herself to sleep and wakes with tearstained cheeks. It repeats the next night, and the world keeps spinning. She cries and cries again.

Sobbing on the other hand, was something she had willed herself not to do, mainly because of the close quarters in the buildings. Every whimper, amplified and echoing in her ears as they vibrated against the titanium walls. Yet being here, overwhelmed with it all, she let every drop crash onto the floor beneath her.

_She sobs for Lexa, the girl that was gone._

She sobs until all she can do is close her eyes and fall asleep. Her dreams are full of _green_.

_She’s running, chasing the flash of red, the sash just out of reach. She has to warn her. She has to save her. Then she hears a bang. She’s too late. Always too late._

_“There’s nothing you can do now.” Lexa’s staggered breath haunts her._

Clarke jolts up, screaming.

The door flies open and Ontari charges forward, almost falling over her when she realized Clarke is on the ground instead of the bed, candles scattered across the floor. Judging by the amount of melted wax, she had only been asleep for an hour or two.

“Are you alright, Clarke?” She kneels beside her.

“No.” She responds lifelessly. They sit in that moment, heavy and suspended.

 “She would not want this for you.” Ontari frowns. “In fact, I know she does not.”

 Clarke sits up slowly, blue eyes piercing into gentle brown. She can almost see her: Lexa, looming in the leader’s gaze.

 “It’s not fair.” Her voice cracks.  “You get to see her. She’s in you and I have nothing.”

“This is not true.” Ontari places a hand cautiously on her knee. “You carry her with you, just as much as I do. More so, I believe.” She adds earnestly. “She may be in me, but she is already a part of you. You gave each other parts of yourselves. Thus, your souls, not spirits, are entwined.”

 “What’s the difference.?” Clarke shrugs off, pulling away from Ontari’s touch. She’d expected it this time and she places her hand back in her lap as she observes Clarke’s behavior.

 “A spirit may fade, may die one day. But the soul lives on for eternity across time and space.” She consoles. “You are soulmates.”

 “You say that,” Clarke scoffs. “But she’s not even here.”

 She knows it’s the hurt speaking. They both do. “She is.” Ontari objects. “You just need to find her.”

 “She’s different.” Clarke denies. The girl in the village, she might as well be a picture. Just a face, but nothing more. Her memories transport her back to the moment when Lexa had discovered her drawing. Her lip quivers.

 “She is still Lexa,” The brunette insists. “just without the Spirit and Commander’s memories in her.”

 “Which means she doesn’t remember me.” Clarke adds. “It means that she doesn’t know who I am!” Her voice is wavering, but the fire is still strong.

 Ontari shakes her head firmly. “But she can learn.”

 She doesn’t want to talk about this. Not now. She was still processing. Ontari picks up on her shift in demeanor and doesn’t pressure her.

 “What’s it like?” She asks. Brown eyes look back in confusion.

 “ _Sonchageda”_ She clarifies. “The City of Light?”

“It’s an idealized world, beautiful, and free. But that’s all it is.” Ontari sighs. “We are here. We are present. And we are living.”

  _The dead are gone. The living are hungry._

 She feels the turbulence in the words.

 “Rest, Clarke.” Ontari urges. “We will talk in the morning.”

 Clarke nods, lying back against the ground. Ontari doesn’t question why she doesn’t sleep on the bed. She probably already knows. Lexa probably does too.


	5. The Parting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke continues to see flashes of Lexa in Ontari's eyes, despite Ontari's urging for her to let go.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Roses and Violets by Alexander Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this video of Alycia laughing, since Clarke will never get to hear her laugh again. :( :( :(  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXrGYi85XLk

The next morning, Clarke wakes to the slightest bit of warmth as the sunlight floods through the windows. She shifts to find that a tattered fur blanket has been draped over her. She sighs, knowing exactly who had put it there. Dropping it from her shoulders, the blonde rises from the floor, bones cracking from being pressed uncomfortably to the ground. After washing up and being attended to by the handmaidens, Clarke exits the room in the direction of Lexa’s old bedroom, needing to find Ontari.

When she approaches the chamber, she realizes there are no guards surrounding it. Everything inside her is screaming for her to go inside, to knock, anything. But she’s spiraling. She doesn’t know if she can handle seeing what the room looks like now. She doesn’t want to taint the memories. She doesn’t want anything to make them any less vivid, any less beautiful, any less real.

Because being here already feels like a dream. And whenever Clarke dreams, her dreams always turn into nightmares; the same nightmare that starts with a bang and ends with black. She doesn’t risk it and instead turns her back to the door.

She circles the halls, searching for the leader, eventually approaching the throne room where the guards nod in acknowledgement, knocking on the door.

“ _Heda_ , Clarke kom Skaikru is here to see you.” The guard announces gruffly.

Ontari gives a nod and Clarke steps inside, walking cautiously down the carpeted aisle, approaching the brunette who was sitting in the chair of branches.

Clarke eyes the seat warily and Ontari picks up on her discomfort, rising quickly. The sight of seeing someone else in the throne only served to solidify the fact that Lexa was truly gone. Clarke _fucking_ hated it.

“How long have you been awake?” Clarke asks as brown eyes settle on the ground. Ontari looks almost ashamed in her stance. She steps away slightly from the throne as though she had been caught doing something wrong. Ontari was the new commander. It was technically hers now. And still, even though it wasn’t wrong, it sure _felt_ like it was.

“I have not slept since I found you last night.” Ontari confesses. Her brown eyes peer into Clarke’s tenderly.

“Why?” The blonde cocks an eyebrow.

“Lexa.” Ontari blushes. “She wanted to watch over you, to make sure you were okay.”

Clarke swallows hard, lower lip trembling. Ontari watches her pensively.

“I did not mean to upset you.” She apologizes, stepping forward.

Clarke bites her lip, shaking her head. Even when she wasn’t here, Lexa was truly too good to her.

“Thank her for me.” Clarke’s voice trembles.

The leader’s expression softens and their gazes lock. She’s there again. _Lexa_ , looking back at her.

 The moment ends sooner than Clarke wishes, and Lexa fades away as Ontari reappears in those brown pupils.

_Gone. Again._

It hurts just as much. Clarke doesn’t know how much longer she can stand being around Polis, being here, so close to seeing Lexa, constantly being haunted by her ghost and the warmth that is _just_ out of reach, trapped and burning in Ontari’s eyes.

Ontari looks at her pitifully.

 “Shall we finish our discussion?” She suggests gently.

  _The living are hungry._

And even with the Grounders and Arkadians at a lull in battle, duty still calls. Clarke flexes her hand, willing her heart to calm itself before nodding.

 “The City of Light.” Clarke begins. “I want to help.”

 “In a week…” Ontari reminds her.

 “I know.” Clarke cuts her off. “But I won’t change my mind.” She says with determination.

 “You are stubborn.” Ontari smirks, the left corner of her mouth upturned. Lexa shines through just for a fleeting moment.

 “I’m going.” She insists. She says it more for Lexa than Ontari.

 The conversation freezes there, _Heda_ and _Wanheda_ frozen in a stare down. Clarke wins her over. She wonders if, it were only Ontari, and not Lexa, if the outcome would have been the same. She knows that Lexa played some part in Ontari surrendering so quickly.

 The brunette chews the inside of her lip, conflict written across her face.

 “Might as well just say it.” Clarke reads her like a book.

 “If you want to enter the City of Light, you need to make peace with yourself and your past. Only then can you make a safe passage.” Ontari advises. “I fear that you are not ready. Your own spirit has been weakened.”

 Clarke cringes at the truth. She stands straighter, hoping to suggest otherwise. Ontari doesn’t buy it.

 “If you cannot find solace, you will never be able to relax enough to cross the barrier.” The commander explains. Clarke detects a hint of concern in the girl’s eyes. She’s pretty sure that’s just Lexa though.

 “Well, what am I supposed to do?” Clarke’s voice rises in frustration. She can’t just act like the girl she loved didn’t die right in front of her just minutes after they had made love, after they had sealed their goodbye with a kiss. _If only they had known how much of a goodbye it really was._

“I have something to show you, Clarke kom Skaikru.” Ontari’s fingers twitch at her side. “Do you trust me?”

 She clenches her jaw.

 “I trust Lexa.” Her voice cracks. By some extend, she guesses, she could say that she trusts Ontari too. But ultimately, it all came down to one person. Her person. _Her Lexa._

 Ontari nods. “Then it’s enough.”

 She strides down the stairs, pausing at the bottom, signaling for Clarke to follow. They exit, passing the guards swiftly before stopping in front of the familiar set of double doors.

 Ontari turns to her and speaks gently.

 “I have a confession to make.” She preludes. “I have not stayed in this room. Something about it did not feel right. It would be improper for me to take it as my own until you had a chance to properly part with it.”

 Ontari’s pupils dilate again and Clarke seeks out the _green_ eyes she needs. Ontari nods and steps aside, holding the door open for Clarke to enter.

 Parting. Closure. It was something that Titus had not allowed her to have before she left. The room has the faintest scent of Lexa, even months later.

 “It has been untouched.” Ontari says. “I will give you time.” Her eyes are deep brown again and Clarke tries not to cry at the loss of tenderness in them.

 When the door closes behind her, Clarke submerges herself in her surroundings; the silhouetted windows, the dancing curtains, and the easel that Lexa had fashioned by the most skilled blacksmith all just for her. Everything she needed, wanted, was stuck in place. Here. Yet the world was still pushing her forward when all she wanted to do was stop and stay, to stay in that moment with Lexa in her arms and their bodies breathing together.

 Blue eyes fall upon the furs on the bed and she runs her fingers through them. Her eyes follow her hand as they skim closer to the headboard.

 Lexa’s headpiece is still on the table next to the bed. The same bed where Lexa had laid with Clarke tracing her fingers over the darkened skin on her back.

  _We don’t have to talk at all._

 Yet all she wanted now was to be able to speak to her again. Directly, not through Ontari or whatever AI spirit was holding on to her now.

 Clarke takes the small embellishment and clutches it in her hand until the small divots make imprints against her palm. She watches as the skin around it turns pink then fades away. A single tear falls and she repeats the process, pressing harder this time. The imprint lasts a few seconds longer than the first.

  _Stay. Why won’t you stay?_

 Another tear falls and she brings the piece, clenched in her hand, close to her chest. She wraps her arm around herself and exhales a staggered gasp. _So empty._

Lexa’s sash and amour hang near the mirror and Clarke reaches out to stroke the worn fabric. Her heart aches. That armor was supposed to protect her from battle. Physically. But it would never protect her heart from falling in love with the reason she would ultimately be killed.

 The guilt consumes her and she unhooks the fabric, fingers grazing the velvet as she wraps it around herself. Blue eyes stay transfixed on the tattered ends as she falls into the bed, crawling  to the right side.

 She wishes more than anything to go back to the moment when their lips connected and Lexa, completely pure and vulnerable for her, laid down on the bed, willing to give herself to Clarke. And Clarke took and took and took. Because Lexa had so much to give; so much love that Clarke needed, craved, and probably didn’t even deserve.

 Lexa had been unsure, nervous, and trembling. Clarke thought she looked absolutely beautiful. The way her eyes seemed to glisten like emeralds as she soaked in Clarke’s skin, shaking as she tried to undress her, breathing heavily as their lips parted for air. It was in that moment that Clarke could see the change in Lexa’s soul, she had found hope, a reason to live and love, simply because Clarke existed and she existed. They were one.

 Clarke rolls onto her back, pushing her free hand roughly between her legs, trying desperately to imagine the feeling of Lexa’s fingers. Her eyes screw shut as she rubs angrily, desperately. She feels a spark in her core; smoke slowly in her lungs, suffocating. She can’t. It hurts. It burns.

 She withdraws her hand, burying her face into the furs as she cries. The fabric muffles the choked sobs, but does nothing for her senses, which are now overwhelmed and buried in the scent of her lover that lingered behind. She stays there until she can no longer keep her eyes open, sash and headpiece clasped in her hands.

 She dreams of Lexa. As usual. She dreams about that special smile that was reserved just for Clarke. She dreams of Lexa assuring her of her choices and supporting her decisions. She dreams of Lexa praising her strength. She dreams of Lexa rubbing her arm to wake her…

 Her eyes flutter open to see Ontari rubbing her arm comfortingly. She has the same touch as Lexa. Clarke, somewhat startled, sits up and searches her eyes. She’s there, waiting patiently. Ontari’s thumb brushes her knuckles, soothing Clarke’s hands until they are no longer grasping so tightly against the Lexa’s belongings. She knows she’s only with Lexa right now.

She inhales sharply, holding the breath in for a moment before releasing slowly.

“You must let go, Clarke.” Ontari says all too softly, producing a pronounced “k”. She knows it’s Lexa.

 Clarke’s eyes water and Ontari shakes her head.

“No tears.” She coos.

 Clarke buries her face in her hands. When she looks up again, Lexa is gone and Ontari is watching her tensely.

 “You must return to your people.” She says it almost robotically. “I will get Titus to summon you an escort.”

 Clarke simply nods, too heartbroken to put up a fight.

 


	6. The Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke recalls the first and only time she heard Lexa laugh.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Light by Sleeping At Last

She stands against the gate at the Polis boundary, Titus standing a respectable distance away as they await one of Indra’s warriors. She wills herself to stand taller as the sound of hooves against the soft dirt approaches them.

To her surprise, not one, but two escorts arrive, dashing towards her on horseback. Her eyes widen when the figures come into focus.

Lincoln is swift to descend from his horse, passing the reins to Clarke. He then helps to hoist her up onto the steed, before climbing behind Octavia to share the space upon the warrior’s stallion. Octavia eyes her carefully, stance guarded yet confident. She gives Lincoln a nod and he clicks his tongue. Both animals set off in equal stride.

She grips the leather strap like a vice, blue eyes cautiously watching the warrior. Aside from an occasional nod when in the company of others, they hadn’t spoken more than a sentence to one another since parting from Polis.

_If you're not there, you're not the person I thought you were._

She’s sure the news of the Commander’s death eventually made its way back to Octavia, but that didn’t diminish the distain for her.

_Why am I not surprised that you're still defending her._

She had said it with so much malice. She was no longer the young, innocent girl who chased butterflies and viewed the ground as a magical place. She had changed. _They all had._

When Octavia met Lincoln, Clarke and the rest of the group had viewed him as a monster; a threat. It was Octavia who had put her faith in him, took a chance when nobody else was willing to. She believed in the good in him and then she fell in love. It all sounded too familiar.

How ironic it was that Octavia learned to trust and love the grounders, yet still viewed their leader as a traitor.

Clarke watches them in envy as Octavia’s body relaxes into a content state, allowing her weight to rest against Lincoln’s chest. He lets go of the reins with one hand, encircling the girl’s waist. Clarke grips the reins, wishing she could have these moments with Lexa. But instead she can only replay the memories and fill her mind with “if only’s”.

They don’t speak, but after some time, Clarke tugs lightly on the reins, slowing the horse below her to come to a canter behind the two. She can’t stand to watch them anymore. As Lincoln reaches for Octavia’s hand, something so simple, Clarke bites her lip. Another thing she could never and will never be able to do with Lexa. She _could_ hold Ontari’s hand, but she knows that it’s just the _Spirit,_ not Lexa.

Does she even know Lexa outside of being _Heda?_

_You do._

Behind closed doors, when she tilted her head back and released a breathy laugh. It was the only laugh Clarke had ever heard escape from those pink lips; private and just for her.

_The two had returned back to the capital tower, exhausted after a long day. Lexa had walked her back to her bedroom. She had turned to leave but Clarke stopped her with a simple “wait.”_

_“Stay a little longer.” Clarke requested._

_Lexa nodded, giving the slightest tilt of her head to the guards who fell back as she closed the door behind them._

_They sat across from each other; Clarke curled with her knees tucked onto the armchair while Lexa sat upright, clearly unsure of what to do with her hands._

_“It’s just us.” Clarke assured._

_They were still dancing around one another to an extent, in spite of everything, Clarke could tell that Lexa was still unsure of where she stood with gaining Clarke’s trust. The blonde appreciated the respect and space that the commander was giving her. But right now, she didn’t need space. She needed to be near somebody. Specifically, Lexa._

_“How’s your hand?” Clarke asked. The wound on her arm had been healing up nicely, bruises now subsided. But the cut from gripping Roan’s sword was much deeper than the others._

_“I’ve experienced pain much worse than this.” The brunette said with her eyes still downcast in her lap._

_She knew what Lexa is implying. She also knew that she had already forgiven her. She just didn’t know how to say it._

_“Yeah?” She blurted out. “What? Did you burn yourself on a candle?”_

_It was stupid and she mentally kicked herself for the horrendous joke, until green eyes looked up to meet hers. The edges of Lexa’s lips turned up until they’d reached her eyes and brilliant white teeth peeked out before her whole mouth parted with the richest sound in the world escaping from her lips. Lexa was laughing and Clarke felt her heart swell. Flames be damned, she was absolutely on fire._

_Lexa soon relaxed as they sat together in a comfortable silence. The wind carried the smell of the fresh trees and night dew into the room. It was a clear night, stars illuminating the blanket of sky. She watched as Lexa closed her eyes, inhaling the crisp air. A particularly strong gust of wind blew forward, causing the brunette’s wavy hair to cascade over her face. Green eyes fluttered open and Clarke’s breath got caught in her throat. Lexa brushed the stray lock back behind her ear before looking to find that a few of the flames had gone out._

_“Why do you like candles so much?” Clarke asked as Lexa moves to stand by her side, carefully tipping one candle over the other to relighting one of the flames that had been extinguished by the breeze. It flickers slightly before completely igniting._

_“When I was a girl,” Lexa placed it on a tray, moving on to the next wax stick. ”I realized how dark this world really was. And so I wanted to have something that could help bring light into it.”_

_It took everything in her not to pull Lexa to her and kiss her. Instead, she opted for humor yet again._

_Do you have enough light now?” She nudged Lexa’s arm playfully, causing her to misaim. Lexa pursed her lips, glowering, but Clarke can tell she’s fighting back another smile. Lexa shook her head and refocused on the candles in her hand. Once they were both burning brightly she looked up, the flames dancing against her dilated pupils._

_"No.” Lexa said earnestly. “But I found something even brighter.”_

You know her. _That_ was the real Lexa.

“We should let the horses rest for a while.” Lincoln announces, tearing Clarke away from her memories. They’ve come across a small brook with fresh water to quench the horses’ thirst. Clarke dismounts and approaches the bank, cupping her hands to gather some of the cool liquid, gulping it down.

She feels the cold water sliding through her, taming the burning in her chest, if only for a moment.

Lincoln offers to scavenge for some food volunteering Octavia to stand guard.

“No.” The warrior says gruffly.

“Octavia” He warns. “I’ll be fine.”

“No.” She says even more firmly.

Clarke can’t help but think of Lexa and the way they had argued over her fighting with Roan. She cared. She hadn’t admitted it out loud, but she _cared_. Everything she had said that was for her people had been a cover, a way for her to deny the fact that she had never stopped loving the girl on the ground. And yet, when it all came down to it, she had caved. She had gone to the arena, heart pounding in her chest, hoping that she had not been late. Her stomach twisting at the thought that it could have been the last time she’d see the girl. She had needed to see her again. She still needs to see her again. _Just one more time._

Suddenly, there’s a crash of lightning overhead.

“We can’t stay out here.” Lincoln observes, grey clouds quickly beginning to cover them. “We have to find shelter.”

“Okay.” Octavia nods. “Just give the horses a minute.”

They wait it out as long as they can before riding off at blazing speed.

“I think there’s a village up ahead.” The warrior calls out. Clarke squints her eyes against the rapidly falling rain. Sure enough, it was a village.

They bolt towards a small inn, quickly tying their horses up in the small shed. Lincoln makes quick conversation with the inn keeper and soon they are escorted into two rooms.

Lincoln pulls Octavia close, brushing the wet strands of hair from her face before biding Clarke goodnight. Octavia simply nods and allows him to pull her into the room.

Clarke sighs, completely exhausted. She sheds her soaking clothes and lays them out by the small fire at the foot of the bed. She grasps her bag, searching for something salvageable to wear to sleep. There’s a simple shirt that comes down to her knees. It will have to do. As she removes the rest of her belongings, setting them out by the flames to dry, her hand comes in contact with a waxy material.

Her eyes widen in realization as her fingers enclose around the candle. She shakes it off, hoping that the wick had not been soaked through. She carefully over the fire, letting the flames lick at the strand until it sparks.

She places the candle on the table as close to her as she can. She then crawls into the bed, wrapping herself in furs, the smallest amount of heat from the flame warming her face. _A little light in this dark world._


	7. The Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke needs to clear her head, Octavia needs to understand, and they both need reconciliation.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: I Only See You by Benton Paul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit longer. Hope you enjoy! I would have posted sooner, but I got distracted being Elyza Lex trash and fangirling over ADC at Paleyfest. :P

Clarke wakes with a jolt, cheeks tearstained yet again. She wipes at them angrily and crawls out of bed. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon and the storm has passed. She blows out the candle by her side, allowing it to cool down before placing it back in her bag. She pats her clothes by the fire, testing to measure whether they were dry enough to wear. They’re damp and somewhat cold, but she’s numb enough not to notice the difference.

Once she’s dressed, Clarke exits the inn quietly. The village is silent, filled with the scent of earth and rain. She inhales the musky air, allowing it to fill her lungs completely before shuffling forward into the dawn. 

She walks the perimeter of the inn, not waiting to stray too far from Octavia and Lincoln should they wake. But soon she finds that she is treading the same path, round and round in circles. Her heels chase one another in the dirt until she can’t stand seeing the same sights and wanders off. It’s a small enough village, she decides. They’ll find it eventually. Now if only _she_ could find herself as well.

She walks to the square, blue eyes focused on the ground below her until she hears gentle footsteps and the roll of a cart. She looks up, eyes widening in surprise. Clarke looks around, finally realizing where she is. They had been in such a rush with the rain pouring down that she failed to recognize the small village.

“I remember you.” The brunette smiles in kind. Clarke’s stomach flips. Without the burdens of leading and the weight of being _Heda_ on her shoulders, Lexa really does look younger. Her eyes shine just a bit brighter, and her skin glows in the light of daybreak. She’s pure, wholesome, and all Lexa.

“You do?” She asks cautiously.

The girl nods. “You’re Clarke. “

Clarke beams, blue eyes hopeful.

“You tried to buy a candle a few days ago.” Lexa recalls, pointing her chin at the contents of her cart. It’s filled with an assorted amount of candles, wax, and other odds and ends.

“Oh.” Clarke’s face falls. “Yeah.”  She says dumbly. _Of course it was too good to be true._

Lexa eyes her hesitantly, reading the pain that has clearly taken over her features. “Have I said something to upset you?” She asks, green eyes filled with concern. “If I have, I’m sorry.” She apologizes gently, her voice, _so_ careful and comforting.

Clarke remembers the way Lexa had looked at her with so much pain and regret, blunt end of the blade pressed to her neck, but she doesn’t waver.

 _She’s still so genuine_. Clarke thinks.

“No.” Clarke responds, despite her eyes watering. She swallows and bites back the tears. “You haven’t.” She focuses on keeping her voice from shaking.

Lexa observes her for a minute. Clarke can sense a thought dancing behind those green eyes before Lexa decides against voicing whatever it was she had just been thinking.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” She asks instead.

“I uhh, I had a bad dream.” Clarke admits, unsure of how much to share. She wonders if telling Lexa the details would somehow jog her memory. But even if it did, Clarke isn’t sure her will is strong enough to retell the story. _Their story._

“It’s always ends the same way, no matter how I try to change it.” Clarke says, hands trembling. Her walls come tumbling down easily. It's so easy for her to feel vulnerable around her, this girl who is essentially a complete stranger.

_But she isn't._

Lexa nods in understanding. Just a single nod. Just like she when she was _Heda._ Green eyes fall to Clarke’s hand. Lexa looks at her sympathetically.

“We all have nightmares, Clarke.” She clicks the “k” softly. “I do as well.” She confesses. “They are also always of the same thing.” Her jaw tightens for a moment. “The sound of gunshots and bullets. They are weapons of the Mountain Men and the Skaikru. Grounders fear them and I worry that my dreams are a warning.” She sighs.

“Not all of us are like that.” Clarke offers.

Lexa gives her a weak smile. “I trust you. But I wish more than anything, for a new future. A world in which violence does not always answer violence.”

 _She says it word for word._ And Clarke wonders if she even knows.

“That won’t happen.” Clarke assures. “We want the same things.” She can’t help but respond the same way the girl once did to her. The way _her_ Lexa did.

Lexa’s eyes are unfocused and Clarke watches the glaze over as the thoughts start to consume the brunette.

“Hey,” Clarke can’t help it. She reaches out for the girl. Her hand hovers slightly before settling on Lexa’s arm. She’s warm and she’s real. Clarke still can’t believe it.

“It’s okay.” She consoles. “You’re okay.” Her thumb rubs gently at the tattoo. “You’re here and alive.”

 _Lexa is here. Lexa is alive._ Hearing the words come from her own mouth sets off a fire in Clarke’s chest.

The girl looks down at Clarke’s hand, leaning in to her touch.

“Something about this feels familiar.” Lexa says in a ghost of a whisper. She swallows, her eyes rising to meet Clarke’s gaze. She chews her lip nervously.

_She feels it too._

“Clarke,” she begins carefully. “Are you _sure_ we do not know each other?”

The blonde freezes, dropping her hand, fists balled at her side.

Before she can answer, someone is calling her name.

“Clarke!” She sees Octavia approaching them from behind the brunette. Lexa turns in the direction of the voice and the warrior stop dead in her tracks. Octavia’s expression is a look of pure astonishment.

“Clarke,” She says nervously, one eye cautiously sizing up the third party. “Lincoln… uhh… you’re needed.” She says.                         

Clarke looks at Lexa, offering her an apologetic smile. Lexa nods in understanding.

“It was nice to see you, Clarke.” Lexa says, a hint of a smile on her lips. “May we meet again.” The girl offers her forearm. Clarke takes it and allows her skin to burn for the moment before Lexa is wheeling her cart over to the stall, going to set up for the day.

_It hurts just as much the second time._

Octavia all but drags her by her jacket to the inn, eyes like daggers as they trudge quickly through the streets. They don’t actually leave, mostly because Clarke can’t bear to do so. And Octavia’s about to fall into a fit of rage so Clarke has to sit her down and explain everything she knows.

After she manages to calm the brunette down, with quite a bit of help from Lincoln, the two stand outside the barn waiting for their horses to be retrieved.

Lincoln adjusts their packs on the steeds’ backs giving a nod when everything has been secured. They mount them easily to begin their return to Arkadia.

As they pass through the village square, Clarke’s eyes immediately fall to where the candle seller’s stall is. She watches Lexa, trying to differentiate her mannerisms; Lexa’s stance versus Ontari’s stance. Lexa stands tall and patiently as she waits for the next customer, hands toying with the tips of her hair, brushed to the side. Residual habits are hard to break, she observes.

Just as they’re almost out of sight, Lexa catches her blue eyes and smiles. Clarke’s heart bubbles over. She pulls on the reins. Octavia and Lincoln, noticing the sudden lack of hooves against the ground, stop as well.

Their eyes remain locked for a moment until Lexa holds up a hand signaling them to wait. She disappears into the stall, the flap fluttering as she retreats.

A moment later, the brunette approaches them with a small wrapped package. Clarke hops off her horse carefully approaching the girl.

“When do you leave?” Green eyes ask, surveying the packed supplies and anxious steeds. Clarke sees a flash of _something_ behind those emerald orbs.

“Now.” She swallows.

_It’s a serious case of deja vu._

“Here.” Lexa  presents. “Take this.” She hands over the item, covered similarly as before, wrapped deep red velvet. “I hope it will help with your nightmares.”

“What is it?” Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“Something to bring a little light to you in dark times.” The brunette smiles.

The words hit Clarke like a ton of bricks, sending an aching longing right to her core.       

By now, the two warriors have joined her at her side and Octavia spares her any more pain.

“Thanks, Lexa.” Octavia says, attempting to pull Clarke’s shocked body back to her waiting horse.

“How do you know my name?” The brunette questions. Octavia stiffens but Lincoln steps in at the perfect time.

“Clarke has told us much about you.” He says smoothly.

“Oh.” The surprise is evident on her voice. “Well, I’m honored.” Lexa beams. “But I’m just a simple candle-maker. I don’t…”

“You’re so much more than that.” Clarke blurts.  

Lexa blushes for a second. “As are you.” she compliments back.

“Okay.” Octavia looks between the two hesitantly. “We really do need to go now.”

“Safe travels.” Lexa bids them farewell.

Clarke tries not to look back as they take their final steps out of the village. It doesn’t work and she finds herself watching the girl with the red sash until she shrinks, getting smaller and smaller until she’s completely out of view.

They ride quietly until approaching the brook just outside of Arkadia. Lincoln stops them so they can gather some resources for the camp before heading back. He goes to pick some berries a few yards away, leaving the two girls to sit at the bank while their horses drank. She toys with the pebbles by her side, rotating a few in her palm, both looking out ahead.

“I’m going to ask you something.” Octavia breaks the silence, her voice rough and tired. “You don’t have to answer it.” She adds.

Clarke stays silent, eyes trained ahead, but the second continues regardless. “You loved her, didn’t you?”

_More than anything in the world._

She doesn’t speak, lips pursed tightly as her eyes stay transfixed on the water lapping against the riverbank. She can feel Octavia’s eyes on her now, her lack of response only serving to confirm the girl’s suspicions.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry.” Octavia apologizes. She looks downstream at Lincoln. Clarke turns slowly to face her but Octavia is still focused on the grounder but her shoulders are hunched slighty, guard absolved. _I didn’t understand._  


“I don’t know how I would cope.” She admits. “I don’t blame you.” _For anything._

_What if I could do more for them by just staying here?_

_You can't, Clarke! We don't have time for this .Look, we need you. The kill order goes into effect at dawn. You have an hour to say your goodbyes._

Octavia had given her the cold shoulder after that, but Clarke was too tired to fight it and simply accepted the glares and clipped responses whenever the girl was in her proximity. She had thought Clarke had betrayed her in their efforts to stop Pike. After Lexa’s death was made known to the clans, Octavia had simply avoided her. Clarke thought it was probably a bit out of embarrassment, but mostly because of her own sense of pride. Octavia and Bellamy were both the same in that way. Neither Blake ever wanted to admit that they were wrong. Honestly though, it was human condition. Nobody ever wants to be wrong.

“I didn’t understand back then.” The warrior says with regret. “But I do now.”

Their eyes finally meet. Clarke can see just how much Octavia has changed since they first landed in the drop ship. Her features had hardened; cheeks bones more prominent, jawline cutting, and a permanent scowl etched into her face. Her tough exterior only fit her development in character as the rough and determined warrior she had morphed into. And yet, in this moment, her eyes were softer.

“So what do we do now?” She asks.

“I don’t know.” She sighs.

Octavia looks at her sadly. “We’ll figure it out.” She assures, but Clarke can tell that she’s not entirely convinced herself.

Lincoln returns to them with a bag full of berries and herbs to take back. They make their final passage back to Arkadia and Clarke closes her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. It’s only been a few days, but it feels like a lifetime. She feels her heart clench as the gate opens wide for the trio to enter.

“Home, not so sweet home.” Octavia grumbles, giving Clarke a sarcastic smile.

She feels her lips tug at the corners, Clarke herself returning the same expression.


	8. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation. It was bound to happen eventually. But she didn't expect it to be like this.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Send Me The Moon by Sara Bareilles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't hate Bellarke, really. I just don't see him as a romantic pair for Clarke, especially not after 3x05.

When she returns, Bellamy practically pounce on her. As if she hadn’t felt suffocated enough already. She had left her room earlier than usual, hoping to avoid the boy, but he found her shortly at breakfast. They ate in silence, drowning in a tension that neither was willing to break until there was nothing more to be picked at on her plate. Just as she was about to stand and leave, he spoke, voice low and foreboding.

“Kane said you went to Polis. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.” Bellamy is fuming. Unrightfully, Clarke thinks. It’s not any of his business and the last time they were in Polis together, things hadn’t ended well, which ultimately lead to him locking her up a few days later.

“I needed to go alone.” She retorts, trying to steady the rasp in her voice.

“I could have made sure you got there safely.” He insists, as if nothing in the past had even occurred.

“I don’t need your help, Bellamy.” She growled.

He retreats slightly, crumbling back.

"I just don’t understand why you would want to go back there.” He grumbles. “All it does it cause trouble.” He huffs. “And pain.” He tacks on for good measure.

 _Pain must be felt to feel true happiness._ The sound of Ontari relaying Lexa’s message replays in the back of her mind.

“You’re right.” She says bluntly.

“What?” He definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“You’re right.” She repeats. “You don’t understand. Polis may be a place where I had to deal with a lot of things, politics, whatever. _Pain.”_ She summarizes. “But I need it.”

“Clarke… I…” He trips over his words.

“What, Bellamy?” She sighs, exasperated.

“I’m _sorry_.” His says angrily, clearly frustrated with the entire situation. “How many times do I have to apologize? I gave you space, _and_ time. What more do you want?”

“I don’t _want_ anything” she pauses. “From you.”

“Then what more can I do?” His eyes narrow.

“You could have trusted me.” She spits.

“I do trust you, Clarke.” He frowns. The words cause her to falter slightly. They echo in her chest, the voice lighter, softer, more feminine, _more Lexa_.

“You don’t.” She shakes her head. “Otherwise, you would understand why I needed to be there, why I needed to go back.”

“Fine.” He deflates. “Then help me understand. Why did you go back?”

She doesn’t want to retell it. She closes her eyes and he waits.

“I just needed closure.” She says simply. It’s the truth, just _barely_ skimming the surface of the truth, but‘s the truth nonetheless.

He looks hopeful, like she’s going to move on. And maybe in time, she will. But not with him. No, not the way he’s hoping for.

“If I hadn’t gone to see Titus and Ontari, I would never…”

“You went to see them?” He cuts off, clearly taken aback. His brows lower, jaw clenched. Clarke could see his pulse straining against the vein in his neck.

“Damn it, Bellamy.” She grumbles. He’s so hotheaded, it makes it impossible to reason with him. “This is exactly what I meant. You don’t _trust_ them.”

“ _They_ are not _you.”_ He emphasizes.

“We’re the _same_ people now. We’re part of a Coalition!” She practically shouts.

They hold each other’s stares, tension running high. Bellamy finally gives, gaze falling to the table.

“That’s not it.” He says. It’s barely audible.

“What?”

“That’s not it.” He repeats again, looking up carefully.

“Then what is it?”

“I can’t lose you too.” Brown eyes are glassy. “I made a mistake and I lost her and hurt you both in the process.”

It takes her a second before she realizes he’s referring to Gina and Octavia. A small droplet collects at the bottom lid of his eyes. It takes a lot for Bellamy to crack. He’s not one to admit his flaws. For the first time, she realizes he’s just as broken as she is. Bellamy had been mess since Octavia had left; first Clarke and then his baby sister. Both, being pushed away because he had chosen the “wrong side.”

“Sometimes what’s _wrong,_ is what you initially thought was best for your people.” She understands. “Lexa taught me that.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sorry I never gave her a chance. She was obviously a good friend to you.”

A friend. _God, she was so much more than that_.

But he didn’t know that. Nobody knew their story. Nobody knew their love; a true tragedy. Maybe he’d like it. Find it beautiful. He did have a thing for Greek literature, after all. She snorts at the irony.

“What?” It obviously catches him off guard.

She shakes her head. “ _You_ are a friend.”

His face lights up. Until he realizes her implications.

“Lexa was…” her voice cracks. “She was something even better.” It’s bittersweet on her lips.

The words hit him hard and he searches her face, but she doesn’t falter this time.

“She understood and trusted me.” Clarke continues. “That’s all I ever really wanted.”

His expression falls, eyes ashamed.

“What really happened when you went to Polis?” He asks.

_She protected me. I found myself. I forgave myself. I fell in love with her._

The thoughts in her head cascade quickly, tumbling like an avalanche. But she settles on the obvious, the most glaring truth.

“She died for me.” She swallows.

He pauses, debating whether or not to speak.

“I would have died for you too.” He insists. “But you don’t look like _that_ when I risk my life for you.”

She gives him a hard glare.

“I know this isn’t about me.” He holds up a hand to signify that he doesn’t mean to offend her. “It’s about you.”

 _Wrong again._ She thinks.

“No.” She says dryly. ”It’s about her. Everything I do, it’s for her. She’s all I think about.” She can’t believe she’s admitting this out loud, and to _Bellamy_ of all people.

Before he can respond, there’s clatter of metal that vibrates through the hall. The crowd looks up to see Jasper stumbling over. A few seconds later, a hobbling Raven is chasing after him, cursing up a storm.

“Nothing to see here.” She waves the onlookers off when she finally catches up to him. They’re close enough for Clarke to pick up on some of their conversation. She listens half-attentively.

“Why won’t you let me have it?” He hisses.

“No, Jasper.” The mechanic asserts firmly. “No.”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” He accuses. “You’ve been to the City of Light multiple times. Why can’t I?”

Clarke’s ears perk up. She marches towards them, helping a struggling Raven restrain the boy, Bellamy hot on her heels. They drag him off to the table where the two had previously been confronting one another. They’re away from the crowd now, the majority of which have become accustom to Jasper’s behavior, attention already returned back to whatever it was they had previously been occupied with.

“Get off of me!” Jasper pulls away sharply.

“Okay, okay. Everybody just calm down.” Clarke tries to level. “Keep it together.”

“That’s real _rich_ coming from you, Clarke.” Jasper’s voice is venomous. _He still blames her._

“Come on, Jasper.” Raven tries to intervene.

“No.” He weighs himself down, making it impossible for Raven to pull him away. “Not until you let me go to the City.” He snarls.

The brunette is getting frustrated, Clarke can tell. She rubs at her knee, inhaling sharply before settling down beside the irritated boy. “Free will and consent cannot be overridden.” She says. “You need to keep it that way.”

“I don’t _fucking_ know what that means!” Jasper says vehemently. “You _keep_ saying that and it means _nothing_. Just give me the _damn_ chip!” He lunges at her.

Bellamy is quick to react and confines his arms behind him.

“Breathe, Jasper.” He orders. It takes a minute, but he finally does.

“Do you really want to erase the person that gave you all of this love?” Raven asks him. Clarke watches as his expression transitions from pain to love to hate to happiness all within a space of just a few seconds.

“Maya is the reason you found happiness on the ground.” Raven insists. “Do you really want to erase all of those beautiful memories?” She asks him.

“Yes.” Jasper deadpans.

“I know you’re smarter than this.” Clarke adds. “You know this isn’t right.”

“I don’t care.” He glares at her. “And this is none of your business.” He stands to leave.

“Jasper…” She tries, but Raven places her hand on her arm, silencing her. The girl’s brown eyes are warning. _Don’t push him._

“Go to hell, Clarke.” He leaves as his last words.

And Clarke thinks, she’s already been there.


	9. The Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Mechanic. Nuff said. AKA The plot thickens. Huge reveal. You are not ready. Things are about to get intense.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Marchin On by One Republic

“Why does he want to go to the City of Light?”  Clarke asks once Bellamy had gone after Jasper, leaving the two girls alone. It’s a stupid question and she already knows why. Probably for some of the same reasons she wants to go. _To see her._

But the blonde knows that she has to play coy if she wants Raven to spill what she knows so she tries her best to keep her voice distant and uninterested.

“He’s right.” Raven eyes her skeptically, quickly reading her game. She wasn’t the youngest zero-g mechanic for no reason. “It’s none of your business.”

“Actually, it is.” She insists. If Raven won’t back down, neither will she. Determination . That was one thing they had in common. 

Well, there was that and Finn. But they never talked about him. In fact, it had been quite a while since she had heard the Latina mention anything about him at all. It was a mercy kill, executed by Clarke herself, and despite her intentions of protecting him from any further torture, Raven had been furious at her. _Rightfully so_. She was the reason he cheated on her in the first place after all. But none of that explained why or how Raven had suddenly just forgiven and forgotten the whole ordeal. 

“You’re not allowed to.” Raven says sharply, teeth grinding together. “Nobody is. Abby’s orders.”

“Well, good thing you’re not one to follow the rules.” Clarke quips.

Raven’s eyes are unreadable, she glances a few feet away, a flash of terror across her face. She shakes her head, breathing heavily.

“Raven, what do you know?” Clarke leans forward, bring the girl out of the trance. Blue eyes locked on brown ones. “What aren’t you telling us?”

It’s a stare down. Clarke wins, just as she typically does.

“I took the chip from Jaha before your mom caught on to it.” The brunette confesses. “I realized it wasn’t what I expected and Abby found out. She banned them after I told her.”

It was starting to make sense now. No wonder why Raven wasn’t looking at her the way she used to, with so much hatred and sorrow. She didn’t have to feel the pain that Clarke had caused her now. And if there was no death in the City of Light, it was likely that she could visit Finn whenever she wanted. It all sounded so perfect.

“Told her what?” Clarke was about to embark on her own journey to the forbidden city and if she wanted to be able to carry out Lexa’s wish, she needed to know as much information as she could.

“I can’t get a grip on reality.” Raven holds her head, hands smoothing over her hair roughly as she struggles to grasp her words. They come out in short sentences; strangled and disconnected. “Sometimes I don’t know if I’m still in the City or not. I don’t remember what’s real.” The mechanic kneads at her leg nervously. Clarke tries to stop her from further injury but the brunette just chuckles, brushing her hand away.

“It doesn’t hurt.” She says flatly. “Nothing hurts. Not my knee. Not Finn.” She shrugs, but Clarke can tell she feels uneasy about it.

"I don’t _remember_ Finn.” Raven continues. “I just know that he was my boyfriend. Because people _tell_ me he was. But I don’t know. I can’t. No matter how much they try to remind me of him, I can’t even picture what he looks like.” She confides.

Clarke swallows.

Finn was Raven’s _Lexa_. It wasn’t _just_ pain. It was the person all together. The person who caused you pain would be completely eliminated from your memories, happy experiences included.

“We need to fix this.” Clarke resolves. “I’m going to talk to my mom.” She stands from her place across from the mechanic.

“I’m coming with you.” The brunette asserts in agreement, confirming with a nod. Clarke returns one of her own and waits for the Latina to maneuver her leg and brace out from under the table before the two set off in the direction of the Ark’s medical wing.

She leads a few feet ahead, stopping in the doorway when she sees her mother with her back to her, hovering over a young boy lying weakly on a cot. He’s clearly in pain, pupils dilated as she brushes the shaggy bangs out of his face. A few stands stick disobediently to the sweat on his forehead. Clarke can’t help but think of Aden. Her stomach drops again at another reminder of Lexa.

“You still have access to the City of Light.” She says from the doorway, heart clenching as she watches the boy writhing in pain. Abby stiffens, placing a cold washcloth on the boy before rising slowly, closing the door behind her as she slips out to speak to her daughter.

“How did you know?” Abby asks.

“A little birdy told me.” She says sarcastically. As if on cue, Raven appears from around the corner, standing confidently at her side. “I need one of those pills.”

“We can’t just use the pills when things get tough.” Abby lowers her voice.

She’s misreading the situation.

“It’s not for the reasons you think.” She clarifies.

"I still can’t let you have one.” Her mother rejects. “There are _complications_.”

“Like what?” Blue eyes narrow. The doctor looks around them, glancing carefully down the hall before motioning for the two to follow her. They walk wordlessly to her office.

“Shut the door.” She instructs and she does. Raven takes a seat in one of the office chairs in front of Abby’s desk but Clarke remains standing, too focused on the task at hand. Abby fixes her eyes on her, urging her to sit as well.

Clarke gives in, solely for the purpose of getting more information from her mother. Abby takes her place behind the chair, inhaling and exhaling slowly before continuing their conversation.

“I haven’t quite figured out all of the details,” She begins calmly. “But it does something to the temporal lobe of the brain, specifically focused on the hippocampus of the user.” She chews her lip and Clarke waits expectantly. “Whenever a nociceptor sensory neuron fires in that region of the brain, the chip somehow eliminates that whole experience or memory. It basically freezes that part of the brain and prevents them from functioning.”

Clarke’s eyes widen.

“That’s not all.” Abby continues. “The longer you stay in the City of Light, the more dependent you become on visiting. _Staying_. And then your physical body depletes. If you don’t come back to reality to sleep, nourish, and care for it, you could wither away.”

“It’s like getting hopped up on drugs.” Raven jests, trying to alleviate the tension. It fails.

“It’s much more serious than that.” Her mother warns.

“I need to get there.” Clarke says as straightforward as she can. “You _have_ to give me one of the pills that Raven took.” She insists.

“No.” Abby shakes her head. “I won’t allow it.” She says steadfastly.

“I’m not going to _stay_ there.” Clarke swears. “I’m not going to waste away.” _Any more than I already have anyway_. She thinks.

The older woman holds firm. “It’s too dangerous. You could get hurt.”

Raven looks nervously between the two Griffin women, unsure of how the whole debacle is going to play out. She fidgets with the metal bolt of her brace watching the two go back and forth.

“Everything hurts.” Clarke counters. “There’s always that chance.” Abby’s expression folds for a moment and Clarke can tell that her new behavior has taken her mother by surprise. Hell, it took her by surprise too. But this was something Lexa wanted. Lexa was smart. If this was something Lexa needed to have done, it had to be of a greater importance, even if Clarke didn’t quite understand it all. Ultimately, Clarke wanted what Lexa wanted; purpose, a reason for peace. And she intended to make it so.

“A chance I’m not willing to let you take.” Abby regains her composure.  

“I don’t care.” Clarke pushes again. “I’m going.”

“Not if I can help it.” Her mother presses back.

“You _can’t_ help it.” Clarke says defiantly.

“You’ve forgotten, I’m the one with access to the pills. Not you.” She asserts. Abby leans forward in her chair, daring Clarke to challenge her again.

“Didn’t you hear anything she just told you?” Raven finally pipes in. “Or anything I told you?”

“Are you going to help or not?” Blue eyes tear way from the doctor’s, pinning to the mechanic’s brown ones.

“What exactly am I supposed to be helping you do anyway?” The Latina holds her own. “You haven’t exactly divulged that _somewhat_ important detail.” She sasses.

“Yes, Clarke.” Her mother agrees. “What is the purpose of all of this? You haven’t expressed any interest in them before. And I would have liked to have kept it that way.” Abby says.

“I need to get into the City” Clarke sighs. “So I can destroy it. It’ll be my first and last time there.” She promises.

It somewhat relieves her mother who takes in the words. But they sink into the pit of Clarke’s stomach as well. It will be the first and last time she might be able to see Lexa, _if_ she is even allowed to get there. And then there was the factor of whether or not Lexa’s memory would cause her pain. If that was the case, Clarke wouldn’t be able to see her there either, just as Raven couldn’t remember Finn because of how much he hurt her.

But Lexa was _different_. Clarke thought to herself. Lexa brought her more peace and love than anybody ever had. More respect and comfort than she deserved. Clarke wasn’t hurt _by_ Lexa. She hurt _for_ Lexa.

“How?” Abby posed the question that Clarke was hoping to avoid.

“I haven’t worked that part out yet.” She confesses. “I was hoping you and Raven would be able to help.”

“I’ve told you everything I know.” Raven admits. “Abby?” The mechanic turns to her doctor.

Clarke can tell that her mother is trying to decide whether or not to divulge any more information.

“If we’re going to make this work, I’ll have to find a way to re-stimulate the inhibited neurons.” Her mother explains. “I would have to run a lot more tests and find someone who was willing to go through a potentially large amount of pain.” Her voice fading as she ends with the hard truth.

“That’s the roadblock.” Clarke realizes. Nobody would willingly want to inflict pain on themselves, especially not a person who had already been relieved of it completely.

They sit in silence, unsure of what to do next. It’s deafening.

“I would.” Raven says softly after a beat. She looks up from where she had been staring at her hands in her lap. “I’ll volunteer.” She says more confidently, her voice is firm and unwavering.

“No.” Abby’s eyes are full of concern. “You are still…”

“She’s a fighter.” Clarke cuts her off, warding away her doubts. “She can do it.” She looks at Raven gratefully, giving her an encouraging nod.

“But Raven is…” Abby tries to come up with another excuse.

“Raven is right here.” The Latina rolls her eyes. “And she can think for herself, thank you.”

Abby sighs. “Let me think about it.”

Clarke tries not to push it and Raven nods. They take the cue to leave the medical office, the tensions of the mental war lingering over their heads.

“Thank you.” She says honestly when they return back to the mechanic’s work station. She doesn’t know what else to say.

“Stop looking at me like that, Princess.” Raven huffs. “I’m not some bird you found in the woods. I have wings, ya know? I can still fly.”

Clarke nods. If Raven can keep fighting, so can she.

“I know.” The blonde says. “But I’m here if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” The Latina bites back a smile. “Well, you better fucking be. You promised to pick me first.”


	10. The Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot picks up a lot in this chapter. The next few are going to be a little heavy.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Lionheart by Demi Lovato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Wondercon happened, I think we could all use another video of Alycia laughing. Here's part 2.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hI5dxCby6Ag

It takes her mother two days to gather as much information as she can on the history of the AI and accompanying chips. Most everything had been wiped from the Ark’s central database, much to her dismay. Using the scarce amount of what could be gathered, she takes another day to run a handful of the tests and another day to rerun them all, just to confirm.

After that is completed to the best of her ability, she passes her findings on to Sinclair, who helps with the technical data. Despite its size, the tiny unit proves to be more complex than they initially perceived it to be. Because it was both part robotic, and part biological element, it was hard to decipher whether the effects of the pill-like chip would actually be truly removable once it had entered into the host’s body. All the research and experimenting takes the doctor and engineer another day.                                                                                                                                        

By now, Clarke has grown incredibly restless, and Raven has caught her pacing outside of the laboratory as her mother and Sinclair worked diligently on the other side of the door. The Latina would then roll her eyes, pulling Clarke by the elbow to lead her away to the robotics shop instead.

She and Raven have been spending more time together, though there has been no significant increase to the amount of dialogue they actually exchanged. Clarke sits near the mechanic in the robotics shop, but not close enough to get in the way of her tasks, quietly watching her move from desk to circuit board to control panel and around again. She never knows what the girl is working on, but the arrangement of blue, black, red, and green wiring at least has an aesthetic appeal to the artist.

“Will you fucking sit _still_ for a minute?” The Latina groans. Clarke looks up in shock, unaware of her own behavior. She stills her legs from bouncing up and down, untangles her fingers from one another so she is no longer fidgeting.

“I’m just nervous.” She confesses.

The mechanic nods in agreement. She would never admit to something that made her appear anything less than confident, but this was something quite different. When the brunette found things hard to handle or challenging to truly grasp, she always resorted to science and math. Things that came with logic and principles, when the variables could easily be manipulated and theories proven. But this experiment had too many unknowns. And she was the test subject. Clarke didn’t have to ask to be able to detect the fear in her eyes. But she let the girl continue, busying her hands and burying herself in her work.

After a few minutes, her mind starts to wander again, and before she knows it, her hands are fidgeting again.

“Raven?” She breaks the silence.  Brown eyes raise to meet blue momentarily, the rest of the girl halted in position has her hands hover, one gripping the crimpers, the other holding onto the ferruled wire. 

“What did you mean when you told Jasper ‘Free will and consent cannot be overridden?’” Clarke asks.

The brunette’s gaze falls to something behind Clarke, but she can’t see what it is that she’s focusing on. Her expression transforms from a look of terror to absolute agony, then morphs into a mixture of devastation and anger.

“Raven?” The blonde repeats cautiously, eyes still trained on the turbulent girl, body angled toward the space behind her. She still couldn’t see anything. “Rav-“

“Leave me alone!” The brunette shouts past her. “I’m not doing this again.”

Clarke is stunned. Raven glares at the air right above Clarke’s shoulder until finally the tension in her shoulders relaxes and a small defeated sigh falls from her mouth. Beads of sweat had gathered at her hairline and Clarke watches the brunette breaths carefully, counting a few seconds between each exhale.

“Alie’s weakness is her inability to feel.” Raven finally says, her voice somewhat detached from her body.

“Alie?” Clarke questions with the tilt of her head. Raven eyes the corner again.

“She’s…” The brunette is cautious as she picks her words carefully. “She’s not real. But she feels real. She needs us to really feel things though. She’s emotionally and physically detached from our world. But she’s still here.” 

Clarke has no idea how to follow what the mechanic was trying to explain. A knock on the door interrupts them and the two turn to find Abby and Sinclair waiting in the doorway.

“Raven, are you ready?” Abby asks as levelly as she can. The mechanic nods, putting down the thermal-hydraulic circuit breakers she had been reconfiguring. She rises slowly, rolling her neck slowly to stretch out the muscles that had been too craned as she hunched over the small device. 

The two girls follow them back to the medical bay and Abby begins to prepare the necessary materials to monitor Raven’s vitals. Once the area is prepared, she notions for Sinclair, who had since been standing outside, tinkering with a small electrical device.

“So Doc,” Raven begins as she takes her place on the examination table. “What’s the plan?” She asks as Abby inserts a stethoscope into her ears, placing the other round end against the crease in Raven’s arm. She checks her watch for a moment, allowing Sinclair to take over.

“We’re going to blow the chip. There’s a small metal oxide varistor in here that will activate,” He taps on the mental enclosure. “Should the voltage reach critical levels.”

“And if it doesn’t trigger in time?” Raven asks, raising her eyebrow skeptical as he hooks it up to another machine that was now being attached to her neck by the doctor. Clarke wasn’t quite able to follow the conversation, something she realized was happening more often over the last few days. But Sinclair gave her a reassuring smile.

Clarke watches as her mother pulls out a small light, checking both of Raven’s eyes before aiming it at the Latina’s mouth. She understands and opens, sticking her tongue out. Despite knowing that all of these were simply precautionary procedures that needed to be done, Clarke grows nervous.

“There’s also a gas discharge tube inside as backup.” Sinclair taps his finger against the device. “It can handle the majority of the surge if need be.” He assures.

“So it’s mainly electrical pulses?” Raven confirms once Abby has let go of her chin and clicked off the flashlight.

“DC voltage only.” Sinclair promises.

“For now.” Abby pipes in, withdrawing a pen from her coat pocket and jotting down a few notes on the clipboard that was sitting on the table by Raven’s leg. She seems to have the same thoughts as Clarke and her gaze lingers on the brace for a moment.

“Until the biology part kicks in.” She says sadly. “At least, that’s what we’re predicting.” Her mother’s voice is melancholic.

“Well, we better hope it doesn’t, won’t we?” The Latina tries to joke. Clarke can tell she’s trying to put on a brave face but the twitch of her lip gives it away. She approaches the girl, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I’m right here.” She promises.

Raven gives her a nod and tight lipped smile. Abby gently coaxes her down to lay against the table and begins to press a combination of buttons on the machine. It whirls to life with a low, jostled buzz. Sinclair checks the monitors while her mother continues with the procedure. The blonde can only sit helplessly as she watches. It brings upon an eerie sense of familiarity.

 _She’s not going to die._ She tells herself, reluctant to actually believe it. _You can’t die._ She demands silently to the girl who was now losing consciousness, dark lashes fluttering shut.

The first surge is applied and Clarke watches as Raven’s body jerks against the table in a violent jolt. Abby pauses to look at Sinclair. He checks the monitors and shakes his head. The blonde struggles to understand the charts and diagrams on the screen, only noting that there appeared to be a brain scan being communicated to the monitoring system.

Her mother turns a knob and tries again. Her body arches even more violently the second time and Clarke cringes at the sight. The charts on the monitor alter slightly, the bar graph just a little bit higher, and the frontal lobe of the brain now spotted with bits of yellow. Sinclair gives a sigh. Abby looks hesitantly between the girl on the table and her hand, hovering over the dial.

“We’re almost maxed out.” She says tensely. “If we keep going…”

“You can’t stop now.” Sinclair urges. “She’s already exhibiting some sort of response.”

“It’s not a guarantee.” Her mother’s voice cracks with uncertainty. The chief engineer clenches his jaw. There’s a pause and the room is filled with the sound of buzzing machine and Raven’s heaving breaths.

“We have to try.” He says finally. “One more time.”

With hesitant hands, her mother adjusts the knob the slightest bit to the right and presses the button. Raven’s body completely lifts into the air as the shock courses through her system. Suddenly the monitor starts beeping an alarming, shrill sound that makes Clarke’s stomach drop.  She feels her blood pulsing in her ears, drumming rapidly.

“Clarke!” Abby calls to her, but she remains frozen. “Clarke!” Her mother yells. “I need you to help.”

Her blue eyes struggle to focus again and she snaps out of her daze, rushing to her mother’s side.

Abby quickly pulls out small vial and needle, inserting it into the serum. “Hold her down.” She instructs Clarke to do as she presses her pointer and index finger against the girl’s neck, swiftly injecting her with the liquid.

The beeping stops and all observe the girl with their shoulders tensed.

Suddenly the entire brain image of the brain in front of Sinclair lights up to bright shades of yellow, orange, and red.

Raven’s eyes fly open and she starts convulsing. Abby quickly withdraws the needles, trying to restrain the girl, but Raven rips the rest of the monitoring devices from her pulse points, hissing in pain as she flings each from her hand.

She tries desperately to leave, but Clarke and Abby react just in time to hold her down, pinning her as carefully as they can to the wall.

“Get help!” Her mother yells to Sinclair. He exits, eyes widened in shock.

“What’s wrong with her?” Clarke asks, struggling to pin the girl’s writhing body down as she let out another tortured scream.

“It worked.” Abby yells back. “All of the pain Raven has ever felt in her entire life is getting flooded into her at once.”

Clarke watches, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Octavia and Lincoln enter the room just as she was losing her grip on the girl.

Octavia comes to Clarke’s side to help, while Lincoln takes over the arm that Abby had been restraining. Raven’s knees buckle and the mechanic convulses against the wall screaming in what can only be described as absolute anguish.

“Raven” Clarke coaxes. “Raven, it’s Clarke. You’re okay.” She begs. “We’re here. Octavia, Lincoln, Sinclair, my mom…” She lists. “We’re all here. We’re not going to let anything hurt you.” Clarke’s vision is clouded and she knows her blue eyes are teary.

She can’t tell if Raven can actually hear or process anything that she’s saying. The mechanic is crying as her body flails from both physical and emotional pain. Octavia and Lincoln hold steady and Clarke moves to directly face the girl once she’s sure that Octavia has a good grasp of her upper arm.

“Raven, please.” She begs. “You have to fight this.” Clarke says, her voice trembling. “You’re a bird! You can fly, right? You’re strong.”

It continues on for what feels like an eternity, with the blonde whispering and pleading with words of encouragement until the brunette’s tremors subside and she’s left in a weakened state of delusion.

Octavia brushes Raven’s hair from where it has now begun to stick to her forehead, her entire body covered in a layer of sweat. The girl’s eyes flutter closed and Lincoln helps to carry her over to the cot in the corner of the room.

“What just happened?” Octavia asks when Abby has finished with taking care of Raven, ushering the remaining few of them out of the room she that the mechanic could rest.

“Reality.” Clarke swallows.

It dawns on her that this could be her in two days. There’s a very high chance that she would end up in that same state. And despite what she wanted to believe, Clarke wasn’t sure that she was ever as mentally strong as Raven. Sure, she could compartmentalize when needed. She could be level headed when it came to conflict and determined when it came to her loyalty to her people. But when it came to something like pain, like _Lexa,_ she wasn’t sure if she could really maintain her resolve.

\---

  
Jasper confronts her later that night, shoving her roughly into the wall. Clearly taken aback, Clarke can tell from his pupils that he’d been drinking. He pins her against the door, fury raging in his eyes.

“Jasper, what are you doing?” She wills her voice to remain steady but it comes out more like a squeak. She’s already exhausted from the previous events of the day and knows that he’s ready for a fight, taking advance of her deteriorated state.

“So you’re get to go into the City, but I can’t? What is that?” He snarls. “Some doctor’s daughter privilege? The Princess Effect?” He says dryly. “Such bullshit.”

“I’m not going there to escape reality.” She tries to explain. “I’m going to end it.”

“ _Wanheda_ ” He spits. “You really know how to live up to the name, don’t you?” He growls. “So you’re going to kill everybody in the City too?” His voice dark and threatening. “Getting rid of one civilization just wasn’t enough?”  He shouts sarcastically.

She doesn’t actually know what the results will be once she destroys the City. What would happen to those who are there? What would happen to Lexa?

Jasper takes offense to her silence and shoves her again, harder this time. “And then what? The rest of us have to suffer? Just like Raven is now? You just love torturing people. Don’t you?”

She isn’t sure how he had found out about their plans but something tells her that it isn’t her biggest concern right now. She should be more worried about the sheer vengeance in his tone. Clarke was pretty sure one wrong word and he’d be ready to choke her to death.

“That’s not it, Jasper.” She utters with a shake of her head. “Mount Weather was… I did it for you.” She tries to justify. “I did it to save _our_ people.”

Jasper’s hands fall from the vice grip he had around her arms, the realization suddenly dawning on him . He steps back, features pained and tears in his eyes.  “Well I was going to save _everyone_.” 

Clarke swallows the lump in her throat, coaxing gently. “I wish you could have.” She apologizes. He stares at her for a long time and Clarke slowly moves away from the wall, taking a step closer to the boy in front of her. He retreats further, shaking his head as liquid trails down his cheek.

“Jasper…” She reaches out for him but he pulls away. “I’m sorry.” She pleads.

“Your apology means nothing.” He says emptily. “ _You_ mean nothing.” He says lowly.

Clarke feels her chest tighten. Everything Lexa had taught her about forgiving herself is forgotten and she feels her own eyes well up.

“I…” She doesn’t know what to say or how to make it better, so she does what she did the first time it happened. She runs.

She runs straight out of the gates of Arkadia into the quickly silhouetting landscape of trees and skylight. Nobody stops her so she keeps running. Sprinting until her lungs are burning and she can’t breathe, arms catching her as she knees buckle right as she approaches a large boulder. She leans against it, palms pressed against the cool rock. Her breath struggles between panicking, panting, and screaming. Her voice comes out hoarse and tired as she begins to hyperventilate. _Help me_. She begs to the empty woods.  _Please. I don’t know what to do anymore._

She closes her eyes and she sees the flashes of white behind her eyelids before everything starts to fade to black and she feels like she’s drowning again. The last thing she remembers in the sound of footsteps, the crunching of leaves against the earth…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who do you think finds Clarke passed out in the woods? Ontari? Roan? Raven? Jaha? JFlop? Kidding.


	11. The Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke learns a little something about the power of love from a friend or two.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Almost Is Never Enough by Ariana Grande ft. Nathan Sykes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol. You all thought it was going to be Lexa that finds her in the woods. Am I that predictable?

The blonde’s ears soon detect the sound of low, struggling grunts and she becomes acutely aware of the feeling of a sharp shoulder digging into her stomach. She can feel two large hands grasping at her calves as her arms dangle down below her head. She opens her eyes, but all she can see is her captor’s backside and boots.

She groans and the man squats quickly, leaning forward and causing Clarke to fall backwards. She manages to catch herself at the last minute before her feet collide on the ground, stumbling back to steady her legs which had gone slightly numb.

She brushes herself off, somewhat dazed, blood now rushing from her head and spreading properly through her appendages.

“Good morning to you too, Princess.” The shaggy haired boy rolls his eyes.

“Murphy?!” She exclaims, incredibly shocked. She hasn’t seen him since their release from the grounder capital. They parted ways after he delivered her to Arkadia, moderating quite a few questions from the Sky People who were desperate to know what took her so long to return.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, bewildered.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He quirks an eyebrow. A petite woman with a mischievous eyes and a deep dimple stands at his side. She hadn’t noticed until now. The woman observes her suspiciously. She has a small satchel by her side and a large glove covering one hand. Her attire is different than what she’s seen before, somewhat more nomadic. Blue eyes focus on the woman’s tattoo, trying to differentiate what clan she belonged to. Before she can come up with a conclusion, Murphy speaks to introduce them. “Emori, this is Clarke.”

“Clarke.” Emori repeats in realization, brown eyes expanding. “You’re _Wanheda_.”

The blonde clenches her fist at the cursed name.

“ _Just_ Clarke.” She shakes her head.

“You wouldn’t rather be called by your girlfriend’s pet name that she gave you?” Murphy teases.

Clarke glares daggers at him.

“Okay, okay. Yeesh.” He holds up his hands. “I’m an ass. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you are.” Emori gives him a playful shove. “You hungry, Clarke?” The dark haired girl asks.

She rubs her ribcage, bruised from being slung over Murphy’s shoulder. She nods.

“Alright.” Emori smiles cheekily, turning with a carefree hop. “Let’s go then.” She resolves, tugging a leaf off a tree in a childish manner before tossing it at Murphy’s face.

The grounder leads them through the damp terrain, the dirt still smelling of dew and the deep Earth. They make it to a small town within a few minutes and the marketplace buzzes with sounds of life.

They browse through the shops carefully and Clarke’s mouth waters at the smells. It’s been a while since she’s eaten and the freshly smoked meats and baked goods are making her stomach growl even louder. Clarke’s sure Emori either heard it as well, or the look of starvation on her face is just too obvious. The woman seems to read her mind and holds one finger to her lips, smiling deviously. 

Emori approaches a wooden table lined with baskets of sweet smelling bread and crouches down slightly, motioning that Clarke follow her lead. Slowly, with deft hands, Emori swipes a biscuit from the pastry display, dropping it into her bag. Murphy glances over at the shop owner before following suit to do the same. Clarke watches, hesitantly. She was starving, but not hungry enough to compromise her morals. Not yet at least.

  
The grounder watches her expectantly until she realizes Clarke isn’t going to carry through with steal. Murphy shrugs, grabbing Emori’s ungloved hand, leading them to the next stall. It happens three more times before Emori feels sorry for her, taking the original biscuit that Clarke had been admiring, from within her bag, tossing it in the blonde’s direction.

“We do what we have to do to survive.” She says nonchalantly.

Her stomach practically roars and she gives in, morals put on hold. Murphy watches in amusement as she scarfs down the roll of bread.

“You want another?” He offers his up as well. She shakes her head, wiping the crumbs from her face with the back of her hand.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks again when Clarke has finished. “Everything okay back home?”

 _Home._ She still can’t quite grasp the concept.

“Things are complicated back in Arkadia.” She clarifies. _Not home. Just Arkadia._

"Glad I stayed away then.” The boy smirks, leading them to another stall where an arrangement of dried cured meats hang temptingly over a small fire. “I couldn’t deal with Jaha talking about A.L.I.E.'s great vision anymore.” He mutters, eyes observing the stall owner, planning out his next move.

“Wait” Clarke catches it. “Did you say A.L.I.E.?” She hisses.

 “Yeah. His hologram AI girlfriend or whatever.” He shrugs. “Why?” He asks, his attention pulled away from the keeper.

 It all starts to fall into place. 

“Raven was talking about her… I think to her…” Clarke trails off.

“Raven?” Murphy actually looks concerned, a rare expression hardly recognizable on his face. “She didn’t give in to it, did she?”

The remorse in her eyes gives it away.

“Shit.” He curses under his breath.

“We got it out of her though.” Clarke tries to alleviate. “I think.”

“Good.” He says with a nod, eyes now on Emori who had taken over where he had left off. “You can’t let A.L.I.E. into her brain. She wants to lure everybody into the City of Light.”

“If everybody’s in the City of Light, their minds would be there, but their bodies would stay here, independently.” Clarke says logically. “They would become dependent on the alternate reality instead of confronting the real world.” 

Murphy nods. He already knows this.

“I’m going to stop her.” Clarke declares.

"Yeah, how?” He asks skeptically.

Clarke doesn’t actually have an answer for him. She hasn’t come up with a planned strategy yet. She just has the facts. The few and far between amounts of information that Raven and her mother were able to gather. 

“A.L.I.E. doesn’t feel emotions.” She reasons “I can use that to my advantage.”

“What? Are you going to try to beat an AI with the power of love?” He says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes. He reaches for an apple from the stall nearby.

“No, but I…” She’s cut off by a brusque voice.

“Hod op!” The shopkeeper calls after them.

They look over to find Emori struggling out of an intimidatingly large man’s grasp. 

“Shit.” Murphy hisses. “Clarke, run!” 

She springs ahead while Murphy goes back for Emori. Her legs carry her through the woods, trying desperately to navigate through the path that the girl had previously guide them through, but the trees all look the same and she realizes she’s lost. Looking around, she also realizes she’s no longer being followed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she allows herself a moment to pause, catching her breath as she rests her body against the trunk of a fallen tree, using the foliage as cover.

She doesn’t realize just how lightheaded and exhausted she is until her eyes close and the last thing she hears is Murphy’s amused voice.

_The power of love._

She dreams of Lexa, of their last beautiful moments together. She dreams of Lexa’s emerald eyes, filled with tears, both girls knowing that once this moment ended, they would have to return back to their people, back to reality, and back to responsibility.

_Her body tingled, all nerves engulfed in flames as Lexa’s hands moved down her shoulders, softly caressing her bare skin. Clarke brought them together, pressing their bodies together until they were chest to chest, lips locked to one another. She looked down at the brunette in adoration. Lexa’s eyes sparkled as a tear trails down her face. Clarke shook her head, quickly brushed it away with her thumb, pressing another kiss to the older girl’s lips._

_“No more tears.” She whispered against her lips. “I’m here.”_

_Lexa bit her lip and nodded._

_“It’s okay.” Clarke assured with words she could only half promise. “We’ll be okay.” They both knew the words were just something to be said, but not guaranteed, yet each clung to them desperately._

_Lexa responded fervently, pressing her lips to hers. A moan escaped from the blonde’s mouth and she felt the brunette under her shudder. She couldn’t help but smile as she lay down, allowing herself to put more of her weight against trained muscles. Lexa’s body reacted just as she wanted it to, with goosebumps and wandering hands. Clarke loved it. Loved her._

_She slowly trailed her hand down the girl’s side, breaking the kiss at the last minute to gaze into her eyes. The brunette gave a consenting nod and Clarke slowly dipped her fingers lower into a pool of wet heat. Lexa’s body keened in response as her breath hitched, head tilted back. Clarke used the opportunity to latch her lips to the girl’s neck, kissing and nipping tenderly, taking in a scent that was purely Lexa._

_“Cl-Cl-Clarke,” Lexa panted, a stuttering mess. “Clarke,” Her brows knotted together, mouth parted slightly as her eyes screwed shut._

_“Shh.” Clarke husked. “Lexa, look at me.” She brushed her cheek tenderly. Green eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking blue. They locked instantly and her heart swelled._

_Everything about this felt so right, so good, so strong. She was making love to Lexa. Not Heda. Not the Commander of the Coalition. Not another member of the Trikru. Just Lexa._

_This was just them. Clarke and Lexa. She revealed, taking in the sight of the brunette writhing underneath her, balling her fists around the furs and she allowed herself to surrender everything she had to Clarke. She was breathtaking. And she was simply Clarke’s._

_The brunette’s body went rigid and the most erotic moan escaped from her lips. The sound caused Clarke to groan in response, grinding her hips against the girl’s thigh desperate for some kind of pressure against her aching center.  Clarke allowed her fingers to slow against the girl’s bucking hips, slowly withdrawing, pausing carefully whenever a sudden pulse from her aftershock clamped around her digits._

_She released a full smile, peppering kisses over the now exhausted girl._

_She lifted herself from the girl’s frame, rolling onto the side of the bed and pulling Lexa spent body to her chest. The brunette’s hair was splayed out around them and Clarke took the liberty of combing her fingers through the silken strands, nails scratching against her scalp lightly. Lexa hummed in approval, burying her face into Clarke’s still bare chest. She chuckled in response, kissing the top of her head._

_Just as she thought the brunette had fallen asleep, she felt calloused fingers trail across her waist and down her thighs._

_“Lexa.” She gasped in surprise._

_“Sha?” Lexa cooed. Clarke grabbed her wrist placing her hand exactly where she needed her._

_“Touch me.” She instructed. But Lexa hears what she really means. Take me. Have me. I’m yours._

_Warm green eyes met hers and their lips connected. Every sense is filled with soft breaths and even softer whispers._

She can still feel it, a brush against her cheek, plump lips against her own…

Clarke wakes choking as bitter fluid sputters out from her mouth. She feels a soft fabric brush against the side of her lips, swiping the liquid away.

“Careful.” A familiar voice says gently, placing a hand against her forehead. Clarke feels the burn of a thousand suns.

She tries to open her eyes but finds her body unwilling to listen to her requests.

“Try again.” The stranger urges. “Slower this time.”

Clarke feels the bed dip as a body sits comfortingly beside her. A set of gentle fingers caress against her cheek, guiding her lips against what she can only guess is a bowl.

“God, that tastes like shit.” The blonde whines, eyes still closed.

“And have you tasted shit before?” The voice says lightly, clearly amused.

“Yes.” She says flatly. “Two seconds ago when you made me drink this.” She scrunches her nose up and the mysterious savior laughs. It’s enough to cause Clarke’s eyes to fly open, meeting a pair of familiar green eyes just a mere few inches away from her face. Clarke feels like she’s floating on air. God how she’s missed that sound.

“Lexa?” She gapes.

“Yes, Clarke.” The girl smiles comfortingly. “I’m here.”

Clarke blinks rapidly and she watches Lexa’s eyes fall to her mouth. Clarke desperately wants to lean forward and kiss her and half expects the brunette to close the distance between them, but the girl places the bowl against her lips again.

“Drink, Clarke.” She encourages. “You are ill.”

She reluctantly complies, cringing as she swallows the bitter liquid.

“What is that?” She smacks her lips in disgust.

“Medicinal broth.” The grounder says sympathetically. “It’s a tree bark based soup, rather bitter.” She explains. “My apologies.” She casts her gaze downward and Clarke can count the number of eyelashes on her face as they cast shadows against her pronounced cheekbones.

Her heart rate speeds up to a thunderous pace and her breath hitches. Lexa, always perceptive of Clarke’s emotions, looks up in alarm. Her emerald eyes search Clarke’s blue ones, locking in place. She had always been able to read Clarke so easily, seeing past the walls that she had put up after the Mountain. But now, Clarke’s walls were in shambles, doors unlocked, and Lexa had a map directly leading her straight to Clarke’s vulnerable heart.

Clarke drives herself to turn away, taking in her surroundings. They’re in a small hut, which she assumes belongs to the candle seller. The room is small, but still adorned with wax carvings scattered throughout. It brings her a sense of comfort, a sense of _home_.

_If only this girl in front of her knew._

“What is it?” Green eyes duck, searching for her gaze to connect with hers. Lexa waits patiently for her to respond and Clarke swallows nervously under the girl’s inquiring stare.

“You just remind me of someone.” She finally confesses. Lexa’s eyes soften.

“Someone special to you?” The brunette questions.

“My everything.” Clarke nods. She’s surprised at how easy it was for her to admit it out loud to somebody. But then again, Lexa wasn’t just anybody. Even if she didn’t remember Clarke, Clarke still remembered her. And the Lexa that she remembered was so much more than _anybody_ would ever amount to.

“What happened?” Lexa asks curiously, placing the bowl of soup on the bedside table. “If you don’t mind my asking.” She tacks on for politeness sake.

The blonde shakes her head. “It just wasn’t our time.” Her blue eyes are tinted with sadness as she speaks solemnly.

“And now?” Lexa says innocently. “Where is that person now?”

“A better place, I think.” Clarke shrugs. The amount of irony is overwhelming and she frowns at the fact.

“Without you?” The girl asks doubtfully.

“No,” Clarke shakes her head. “They’ll always have me.” She doesn’t meet Lexa’s eyes, afraid of what else she might confess.

Lexa gives a sympathetic smile. “And you have a part of them as well, I’m sure.” She places a hand tenderly on Clarke’s knee, thumb rubbing lightly. _How the tables have turned._

The feeling of her warm palm, even through the barrier of the fabric of her pants, sets Clarke’s skin aflame, heart pounding. She feels goose bumps rising across her skin and she draws back with a shiver.

Lexa looks dejected and Clarke can see thoughts swirling behind her eyes. _Does she remember?_

“They’ve left me behind.” Clarke fights back tears. “They’ve forgotten me.”  

Lexa gives her a pitied look. “Love is the most powerful thing in the world.” She objects with the shake of her head. Clarke is momentarily hypnotized by the way her curls fall from her shoulder as she does. “It can conquer anything.” Lexa insists.

“You _really_ think that.” Clarke scoffs because it’s so _fucked up_ that the girl who once told her it was weakness, when not burdened by the duty to lead, could be so innocent. So naïve. So pure. _So Lexa._

“I think if your love is as beautiful I believe it is, it can overcome any hardship.” Lexa smiles affectionately.

Clarke looks at Lexa as memories overwhelm her. It hurts talking to her about well, _her._ Lexa doesn’t know or remember their love. Her eyes search green ones, hoping to find a sign, any small source of hope that Lexa knew what Clarke was talking about. That Clarke was talking about her. That Clarke was _still_ in love with her. Green eyes are gentle and kind, but they’re not the same. It breaks her heart just a little more.

“I should go.” Clarke finally says, tearing her gaze away. “Thank you for the medicine.” She says, not quite meeting her gaze. She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and Lexa adjusts so that she is no longer in the way. 

The brunette gives a dejected smile, the corners of her mouth barely rising. She nods in understanding. The blonde approaches the door.

“I hope you give them another chance.” Lexa says at the last second.

Clarke stiffens, turning to meet a pair of expressively warm eyes.

“Her.” She clarifies. Lexa’s green eyes widen for a moment before her features soften again. “It was a her.”

Something behind the girl’s eyes flickers. “ _Her_ , then.” She corrects, green eyes brighter. “Go find her. Maybe she’ll surprise you.” Lexa offers a supportive smile.

Clarke nods, returning one of her own weakly. “May we meet again.”

“I know we will.” Lexa assures with a warm smile, slinging the back across her shoulder.  “I can feel it deep in my bones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. There's a Lexa Snapchat filter. I am so proud of us, Clexakru! Lexa lives on!


	12. The Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball is rolling. Clarke has to hold onto the two things that she's stopped believing in: hope and love. After all, they all need to heal and this is their first step to recovery.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Undone by Haley Reinhart

_Hope_. It’s what she saw in the brunette’s eyes as she left the villager’s small hut. She allows herself to take a breath as she leaves.

The medicine that Lexa had given her kicks in relatively quickly and by the time she navigates her way back to Arkadia, her headache is gone and her skin is no longer breaking out into a cold sweat. Her body feels lighter and she realizes it’s partially because of the soup, but more importantly, she thinks that maybe, it’s because she actually had a dream about Lexa that didn’t end with her in tears. Instead it ended with her. _With Lexa._ Well, the physical version of her anyway.

Despite it all, she feels _stronger_.

Once the gates have closed behind her, trapping her in the place that should be home, but isn’t, Clarke marches directly to the medical bay.

“Raven?” She peeks her head through the doorway of the room where the mechanic was currently being housed. She sees her lying in the cot, still recovering from the immensely painful memories that had simultaneously been inflicted upon her.

Bellamy is at her side, and the two are whispering softly. His eyes are filled with concern, and Clarke can tell he’s fighting to keep a smile on his face. He’s trying to be strong for her. That’s all they ever try to do. Be strong to keep each other alive.

Clarke clears her throat, giving them a moment to be made aware of her presence. He stands hesitantly when he hears her footsteps approaching.

“Give us a minute?” Clarke interrupts, eyes falling to the mechanic.

He nods carefully. As she passes, he grabs her wrist and leans towards her. Her body stiffens when she feels his breath against her ear. “We need to talk.”

She’s about to push him away, but when he voluntarily backs off, their eyes meet and she can realizes it was not mean to be an advance. But instead, his expression is laced of worry.

“And we will.” She promises. “But I have to talk to Raven first.” She says as levelly as she can.

“Of course.” He acknowledges, leaving her to converse with the mechanic in private. “I’ll meet you outside your room?”

She gives him a nod before turning her attention to the brunette lying in the bed, eyes drooping with exhaustion.

“Hey,” Clarke joins her, pulling up a chair to sit by her bed. “How are you feeling?”

Raven turns her head lethargically; eyes sunken and the dark circles underneath them are distractingly prominent. Her lips tug at the corners feebly.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” She huffs sarcastically, her voice scratchy and hoarse. “Absolutely fabulous. Never better.” She feigned a smile, raising her eyebrows in what was probably meant to seem snarky, but now looked more like strain. Clarke returns a small grin, glad to see that Raven’s spirit had not been diminished, despite the event. 

She takes in the girl’s features noticing that her skin is a paler shade than before. She can’t help but feel a pang of remorse sitting here. The brunette narrows her eyes at her. _Don’t look at me like that._ They seem to say. Clarke sits up straighter, knowing not to let Raven believe that she is belittling her or feeling sorry for her. It wouldn’t be helpful to her pride, Clarke knows that.

“You want to know what it’s like,” Raven interrupts her thoughts. “don’t you?”

Clarke nods. Despite their lack of interaction over the last few months, the two share an understanding and Raven is able to read her just as easily as before.

The brunette bits her quivering  bottom lip and she blinks a few times. Clarke knows it’s to keep the tears in her eyes at bay, but she pretends not to notice, allowing the girl to continue.

“I saw my mom. I saw Finn.” The words fall from her mouth unsteadily. “I saw _everything_ … all over again.” The expression on her face was unbearable. Clarke’s heart hammers in her chest.

Clarke has felt all of those things before. Every reoccurring nightmare, repeating with the sound of a gunshot. She feels her lungs constrict. 

“I’ve never had something hurt so much all at once.” Raven says with affliction, eyes downcast in her lap.

“Raven…” Clarke offers but the brunette holds up her hand to stop her from continuing.

“It’s okay now. She rub her arm and Clarke can see dark bruising from where they had to restrain her. “Well, better anyway. It’s not all at once. It’s something I could live with.” She shrugs. “Bearable.”

“I’m sorry.” Blue eyes apologize, because honestly what more can she say? She tries to convey her compassion and Raven takes it with a gentle smile.

“I’m not.” Raven shakes her head. “I’d rather remember them than not at all. I’d rather be whole than just pieces of who I used to be. Even with the bad parts.” Raven is trying to get her to understand.

 _At least Lexa is here. It’s better than not at all._ She hears a voice in the back of her mind remind her.

“There’s nothing bad about you.” She says, touching the girl’s leg, knocking lightly on the metal of the brace.

“Of course not” Raven smirks cockily. “I’m the shit.”                                                             

Clarke can’t help but smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.” She confesses. _I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the City of Light. I’m glad you didn’t give in. I’m glad you didn’t give up. I’m glad you’re strong._ All the things she didn’t convey out loud she speaks through her eyes.

 They sit in a comfortable silence, listening to Raven’s ragged breathing, her lungs still raw from all of the screaming.

“Are you ready?” Raven asks curiously.

 _Don’t be afraid_. It rings in her ears. _Lexa._

“Did my mom clear it?” She asks. Right on cue, Abby interrupts at the door with a knock of her knuckles against the steel door frame.

“Hi.” Her mother offers tenderly to both girls. Clarke can tell that she must have been worried about her leaving again, but her main concern is the brunette now, something Clarke is grateful for. “Raven needs to rest.”

She tilts her head up and gives the brunette’s hand a soft squeeze before standing. “I’ll see you later, Raven?”

The brunette nods.

“Dope me up, Doc.” She grins sheepishly and Clarke rolls her eyes playfully, watching her mother administer another dose of pain killers.

“I’ll be by your room shortly.” The doctor says as she prepares Raven for a few post-traumatic tests. “We have much to discuss.” She glances carefully at her daughter, still cautious about pushing her too far. Clarke wishes for her to stop looking at her like that. At least look at her like she had something to offer. Like she was special. Like Lexa did.  

She squares her shoulders and gives a confident nod before exiting. Bellamy is outside her room when she returns. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his back stiff and alert. He forces a smile when she rounds the corner.

“She’s going to be okay.” He assures when he sees her approaching.

The blonde reaches into her back pocket, retrieving the key to her room, unlocking it as she straightens. “I knew she would be.” She lies. The door beeps and the latches unlock automatically with robotic click.

She pauses slightly, holding the door open before pushing it further to step inside, waiting. She hadn’t allowed anybody near her since the incident. But with the impending trip to the City hovering over her, she tries her best to accept the pain. It’s what Lexa would have wanted, she thinks. To be able to feel true happiness, she has to embrace the pain that comes with it. 

Bellamy steps inside hesitantly, but keeps close to the door, wary of her body language. He looks for a sign that she may change her mind, but when she settles herself on the bed, he realizes that she’s not going to change her mind.

She takes the initiative, the first step in repairing their friendship and regaining one another’s trust. She waits for him to join her, still sitting a respectable distance apart.

“Clarke,” He begins carefully. “Something happened while you were gone.”

Her eyes widen, stricken with worry. It had only been a day. What more could have happened?  

His eyes grow glossy and his fist clenches.

“What happened?” She narrows her eyes and he tightens his jaw.

“Bellamy,” she repeats, her heart rate accelerating. “What. Happened?” She asks again.

“Jasper.” His voice cracks as he chokes the name out. His nostrils flare and he’s split between being completely enrage and being completely disappointed.

“What about Jasper?” she asks.

“I think he’s gone.” he picks the words carefully.

“We’ll find him.” She assures, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We always do.” She assumes he’s run off in a raging fit again. She really hopes that the case. Because the other thing that he’s implying would mean.

“No.” He says, and her worst fears are confirmed. “We know where he is.”

She shakes her head in denial. She just saw him yesterday. It couldn’t be. “What?”

“He was unconscious,” Bellamy divulges. “hiding underneath the stairwell.”

There’s starkness to the air around them. He looks ashamed.

“I should have kept a closer eye on him.” He mutters. Clarke gives his arm a squeeze.

 _You can’t blame yourself_. She tries to convey with her eyes. 

“How?” She asks.

“I’m not sure.” He confesses. “Abby said that somebody broke into her office while she was taking care of Raven.” He explains. “And later she discovered that two of her chips were missing. When Jasper didn’t show up for roll call, it didn’t take long to put two and two together.”

Her legs grow weak and she’s thankful that they’re already sitting down.

“He’d been gone all day.” Bellamy continues. “Monty found him.”

Her heart breaks for both parties involved.

“Does Raven know?” She asks.

“No.” He shakes his head and the ruffs of hair fall over his eyes. “We haven’t told her yet.”

“Someone’s going to have to.” She voices the harsh reality. His throat bobs and he purses his lips.

 “And my mom?” She asks. “What’s she going to do with the chips now?”

“You still want to go?” He raises his head in surprise. She can see spurts of fire behind his eyes again. He inhales sharply, trying to calm his nerves.

“Word travels fast, doesn’t it?” She scoffs. First Jasper, now Bellamy. She wonders how many people now know about her mission.

“I just…” He doesn’t want to push her away again. “Just be careful.”

There’s a knock at the door and Clarke stands to greet her mother.

“I take it Bellamy has filled you in on Jasper?” Her mother says sadly.

She nods.

“He took two and basically overdosed, numbing more than just his pain receptors.” Abby frowns. “He’s in a coma?” She says uncertainly. “We don’t have any information on how the body reacts to an excess of the chip’s technology.” She informs.

“But he’s alive?” Clarke is hopeful. Her mother gives a hesitant nod.

 “We think so.” Abby offers carefully.

It's enough and she's determined. “I need to get in there.”

“Clarke.” Her mother grits her teeth. She knows she’s worried. Hell, Clarke is worried too. But there’s still hope that Jasper could be saved. And right now, strength and hope are the only things Clarke can use to motivate her. She needs to get him out of the City of Light.

“I can save him.” She says, driven.

“It’s too dangerous.” Her mother cautions.

“I won’t be alone.” She admits. It’s the first time she’s disclosed the information.

“What do you mean?” Abby looks at Bellamy suspiciously. When she finds ignorance across his face she turns back to her daughter.

“Ontari will be there.” Clarke says. _And Lexa._  

“And you trust her?” Her mother raises an eyebrow. She knows it’s simply because the new Commander is a member of the Ice Nation and their interactions with the Sky People have been less than ideal.

 _It’s complicated_. She wants to say. She doesn’t actually know Ontari. But she knows to trust Lexa.

“To an extent.” Clarke nods.

The doctor’s eyes are tired. And Clarke can see the burden of losing each of the original 100 has taken upon her mother. She may have been a Chancellor and a leader at one point, but first and foremost, she was a mother. And these were her children. She sees the same load she carried mirrored in her mother’s eyes.

“I can do this.” She promises. “Trust me.”

“Three hours.” Abby sighs.  “Three hours, then we’re pulling you out.” She says firmly.

_Three hours to destroy an entire city that she knows hardly anything about. Three hours to find Jasper. Three hours with Lexa. That’s all she has. And she’ll take all she can._

After explaining what she and Ontari know about the City to her mother, they go to find Marcus to inform him of the plan. It takes a while for the information to sink in, but eventually he agrees, not having been a fan of the chips originally from the start.

He radios Indra, who has now returned to Polis. Within minutes, the soldier circles the tower and locates the Commander.

The radio is then handed over to Clarke. She presses the button on the side and speaks clearly.

“Ontari?” She greets. “Are you there?”   

The line crackles before the voice response. “I was afraid I would not hear from you.” She says.

“It’s been a wild week.” Clarke says vaguely. “But I’m still in.”

“Are you certain?” Ontari’s voice is soft and patient.

“Yes.” She nods, despite knowing that the girl could not see her. There’s a pause and for a moment, she’s afraid that Ontari might tell her she’s not willing to let her follow through with the plan.

“Okay.” the leader says finally. “I will be waiting.”

She holds onto that as her eyes flutter shut. In twenty four hours, she was going to be in the City of Light, completely unprepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep the fic as "canon" as possible, based on the spoilers for the finale. But if they're wrong and JRat takes it in a completely different direction, I'm sorry. Hopefully my version will have a happier ending than his....? IDK. 
> 
> Anyway... Leave me your thoughts/comments! I love reading them and I can't even begin to explain how much they motivate me. The next chapter will be THE ONE. Get. Pumped.


	13. The City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke enters the City alone. Will she leave alone as well?  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Clexa Theme by Tree Adams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Potential trigger warning.***
> 
> I would have posted earlier but I watched 3x09 and got really pissed. No worries, Linctavia fans. I will not be killing Lincoln off in my fic. :)

She barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning until she can’t take it any longer. Small streaks of gold and orange paint the sky, but the real source of heat, the true spread of warmth, has yet to push its way passed the horizon.

She allows herself the luxury of walking through Arkadia in the break of dawn, the camp silent and serene. She strolls in no particular direction, keeping close to the medical bay. She’s too nervous to do much else. As promised, at noon, her mother notifies her that it is time.

She nods, blue eyes set and determined. Clarke feels a spark within her, burning the embers deep in her stomach as she takes her place on the hospital bed. Jasper is lying in the room as well, his form unconscious with wires sprouting from all around his upper body. Instead of breaking her willpower, it only spurs her on more.

“I’m going to bring him back.” She promises to her mother, looking at Jasper’s lifeless form. Abby gives a half-smile and nods. She knows her mother is trying not to be so hopeful, just in case.

Clarke lies back, allowing the doctor to insert a small needle into her arm. She places a few receptors alone her chest and temples which are connected up to the machine, similarly to how Raven’s had been. Once complete, Abby reaches into her back pocket to withdraw a small packet with a single infinity chip. It rests in her palm as she waits for Clarke to take it.

Her hands are shaking, but she takes it quickly, swallowing without the use of water or any other chasers to help wash it down.

“Three hours.” Clarke repeats to her mother. Abby nods and Clarke can already feel the devices beginning to take effect and her eyelids grow heavy.

Clarke enters alone.

She’s met with blinding white as her eyes slowly begin to refocus. It’s raining slightly but the sun is still out. It shines off the pavement as she steps forward, catching bits of her reflection in the small puddles along the ground. She doesn’t know where she is or what the layout of the city is. But she moves forward. She has to find Ontari.

People pass her on the sidewalk but do not seem to be aware of her presence, even as she stumbles passed them. She follows the direction of the crowd for a while, but quickly realizes she has no knowledge of where they are going. Instead, she turns, trying to shuffle her way out from the crowded path, bumping shoulders with a few pedestrians, earning a variety of looks ranging from completely impassive to absolute annoyance.

Deciding that she couldn’t place her mind in another place, she crosses the street and sees a familiar face.

Sitting carefree on the park bench is none other than _Jasper._

He doesn’t see her as she approaches him. She calls out his name and he looks up in a sort of dazed confusion.

“Jasper,” She says relieved. “It’s great to see you!” She smiles. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of her.” She reaches out for him but he pulls back, clearly afraid.

“Do I know you?” He asks. She freezes. Everything she was dreading, the worst case scenario, had come true. He had completely eliminated every memory of pain. Not just Maya, but Clarke as well. He blamed her for Maya’s death and consequently associated her with the feelings of loss and heartache.

 _People die when you’re in charge._ She clenches her jaw, inhaling slowly and swallowing. Her blue eyes open a moment later and she searches his empty gaze for any sign of recognition. She’s met with no resolve.

“I’ll come back for you.” She whispers to the clearly confused boy. Clarke’s eyes water and she walks away.

She knows she can’t wait. She only has three hours and it’s taking longer than she expected to find Ontari. She weaves through the streets, boots against the slick sidewalk. It’s empty and she’s alone.

It could be a good sign. Maybe not that many people have given into A.L.I.E.'s manipulation. She knows that’s probably a lie, but it doesn’t hurt to pretend at this point. She needs something to motivate her to keep going.

As she rounds the corner, there’s a rustle of noise and suddenly the streets are flooded with more pedestrians. She bumps into one in particular who glares at her angrily. He’s dressed in a sort of business suit, similar to the dated attire that the Mountain Men had worn before. He tightens his trench coat and she makes a beeline through the crowd, trying to avoid his piercing eyes. She continues to cross the bustling streets of the city, wandering aimlessly.

The commander is nowhere to be found and she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Something isn’t right. She can sense it. She soon comes upon a structure; a larger-than-life sort of building. The architecture is elaborate and above the doorway illuminates a broken infinity sign. Clarke is certain this is the place she needs to be.

As she attempts to ascend the stairway, she feels her collar being pulled back and a fest collide with face. She stumbles back in shock as red drips from her nose.

She turns to find the same man in the trench coat glaring at her.

“You do not belong here.” He accuses. “You are different.” He barks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She bluffs. He doesn’t buy it. 

“You have not entered upon your own free will.” His eyes narrow darkly. Clarke swallows.

“Who are you?” He interrogates.

“No one.” The blonde lies.

His eyes darken and before she can react, she finds herself being pinned to the ground as he lunges at her. He is soon joined by a group of men dressed quite similarly as they beat her. She feels a kick to her ribs and she lets out a groan.

“She can feel it.” One of them says.

“We need to get rid of her.” Another says as she feels another blow to her jaw.

Suddenly she hears a harsh cry break through the rain. She looks up to find _her_ Heda charging toward the men, dual swords in hand.

She slashes on skillfully through the throat and he falls, releasing his grip on the blonde.

“Run, Clarke!” The Commander instructs and she does, struggling to free her grasp. She stumbles down the steps, a sharp pain hurling through her stomach. She collapses, completely winded, watching helplessly. It happens all too quickly and suddenly Lexa is marching toward her, confidently sheathing her blades away behind her back.

She feels a gloved hand against her cheek. “Are you alright, Clarke?” She asks, eyes filled with concern. “Are you hurt?” she runs her hands carefully across her shoulders, her face, her head. She’s frantic in her touch; fingers trembling and her expression full of worry.

“I... I think so.” She manages to stutter out. The brunette breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’ve been thinking of you.” Lexa’s voice is gentle and her green eyes light up in a way that Clarke can’t describe, but God, did she miss them.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Clarke.” The brunette scolds, fighting back the smile on her face, her eyes are full of apprehension, but also filled with love. “But I’ve missed you.”

“You knew I would.” Clarke accuses. Lexa’s chin dips slowly as she gives a single nod.

“Ontari informed me.” She admits. “Though, I tried to get her to convince you to stay away.”

“You know I’m stubborn.” Clarke just shrugs, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Lexa chuckles, shaking her head in objection. “You are headstrong.” Her eyes twinkle as her eyebrows raise accusingly.

“I don’t regret it.” Clarke says. Her eyes are hypnotized by the emerald orbs she’s missed so much. The brunette purses her lips.

“Coming here?” Lexa asks, it’s barely audible.

“Any of it.” Clarke rasps. “You. Us.”

“Good.” Lexa smiles softly, but there is a hint of sadness in her tone. “Remember that.”

Blue eyes lighten, searching for some sort of reason but Lexa gives her none, straightening her stance. Her eyes catch sight of something behind her and Clarke turns to see what exactly has gotten Lexa so enraptured. Or who.

“Is that…” She watches the girl’s curls bounce as she walks, completely unaware of the two. “Is that her?”

Lexa stands slowly, nodding sadly.

  
“Have you talked to her?” Clarke asks, joining her as they observe the girl from afar. 

“Once.” Lexa bites her lip. “She does not remember me. I have caused her much pain.”

“Is that why you want to destroy the City of Light?” Clarke asks, turning her attention to the brunette who looks on. “Because you don’t want to see her like this anymore?”

The brunette shakes her head, her eyes distant as Clarke observes her. “There is nothing wrong with loving someone after they have died. But it is wrong to let yourself die with them.” She knows they aren’t talking about Costia anymore.

The girl disappears out of sight and Lexa refocuses her attention on the blonde with a bittersweet smile.

“Come.” Lexa turns to lead them, eyes attentive to their surroundings. “We must find Ontari before A.L.I.E. knows that you have infiltrated the City.” Clarke takes a moment to finally give the warrior a once over. She’s adorned in weaponry; her signature dagger by her hip, and two swords across her back. Her face is smudged with black war paint and she’s ready to fight.

“Lexa, wait.” She hesitates, a lump caught in her throat.

“What is it, Clarke?” She softens immediately, and there’s the familiar click of the “k” when she says her name. Clarke’s heart flutters. Lexa focuses her attention solely on the blonde in front of her, her eyes attentive and kind.

“I _do_ have a regret.” She confesses.

Lexa’s face falls, green eyes darken with sadness. “And that is?” The corner of her mouth twitches.

The blonde’s arms reach out and pull at her waist, encompassing her body as she crashes their lips together. The brunette registers what’s happening almost instantly and reciprocates. They kiss desperately.

“ _Ai hod yu in._ ” she whispers the words she against soft pink lips.

“I love you too.” Lexa breathes.

Both girls’ eyes well up with tears. How long they had waited to hear those words. How they longed for a chance to say those words before it was too late.

“I should have told you.” Clarke’s breath is against her lips, a single tear falling down her face. Lexa cups her cheek and brushes it away with her thumb, bringing their foreheads together.

“You did.” Green eyes smile. “Many times. You told me with your actions.” She assures. “You did not need to say those exact words for me to feel your love. I hope you felt the same when it came to me as well.”

Clarke nods, her nose brushing against the taller girl’s lightly, eyes hooded as she drinks the girl in. Her body is trembling slightly, but she assumes it’s simply because of the overwhelming excitement she feels being this close to Lexa. 

“But I wouldn’t mind saying it to you anyway.” Lexa smirks playfully. “ _Ai hod yu in, Klarke.”_

Lexa brings her fully to her, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl and Clarke feels free. Full. She feels Lexa deep in her bones, warming her veins, molding to her completely. She was, is, and always will be hers. She feels her spine tingle as Lexa rubs lightly at her back.

“Come, _niron.”_  Lexa gives her a squeeze. “We must find Ontari and the creator.”

“A.L.I.E.” Clarke nods.

“No,” Lexa shakes her head. “Becca.”

She raises and eyebrow and the reality sinks in. She really isn’t prepared to be here but she trusts Lexa and allows her to leads them to the building, much grander than the rest. The brunette’s movements are cautious, green eyes scanning the area, highly alert. Clarke’s senses heighten as well as they crouch down behind a concrete planter.

"Who are they?” Clarke whispers, referring to the now fallen men in trench coats lying along the pavement.

“They are A.L.I.E.'s guards.” Lexa explains. 

The blonde nods, urging her to continue. “A.L.I.E. has been fighting with The Commander for as long as our theology goes back.” She enlightens. “A.L.I.E. cannot physically control the real world because she does not have a willing body to serve as her physical form. Her spirit is being guarded in there.” She tilts her chin in the direction of the building.

“But we are loyal to the _true_ commander, Becca.” Lexa continues. “Because of this, A.L.I.E. wants to lure all of the human minds left into the City so that there are no physical bodies to stop her. It evens the field. Once the last _Heda_ dies, with no one to take Becca’s place, A.L.I.E. will have no one to stop her.”

Clarke tries to understand, she really does. But the lineage is hard to follow. Lexa senses her confusion and backtracks slightly. “We are loyal to _Becca_ , but to destroy the City, would also mean we would destroy its creator. _Our Commander_. My idea is considered a betrayal to my people and all of those who came before me.” Lexa clarifies.

The alarm in her expression is clearly evident and Lexa reads her like a book, placing a supportive hand against her cheek. Her thumb brushes lightly and Clarke leans into the touch, surrendering to the moment. Emerald eyes wait patiently for her to calm her nerves before she continues.

“There is something else you must know, Clarke.” The brunette warns. “I cannot be controlled here. Nightbloods are more than just the host for the Flame.” She says. “They are immune to A.L.I.E.'s attempts to control minds. We can fight against her.” Lexa pauses.

“I gave you a part of me.” She says tenderly, her fingers find Clarke’s, holding them lightly. _When I swore fealty to you. When we made love. When we entwined our souls._ Her green eyes convey.

“Since you are a part of me, and I, a part of you, you can fight her too, to an extent.” Lexa says softly.

“And what extent is that?” Clarke questions.

“I am not sure.” Lexa says cautiously. Clarke can tell she’s worried.

“This is a battle of strength, mind, and body.” Lexa advises. “They can’t control you, make you feel numb. That means you can _feel_. You could be hurt here.”

“And so can you?” Clarke concludes.

Lexa shakes her head. “It is different because I have _Sheidjus_. You must be careful, Clarke.” She says, running her thumb over Clarke’s knuckles. It’s supposed to be a forewarning, but it sounds more like a plea.

Clarke nods, allowing herself to get lost in the feeling of Lexa’s protective hands against her skin.

“Come.” Lexa says finally. “We don’t have much time.” She pulls them up and they quickly rush towards the stairway.

As they approach, Clarke feels her heart start to clamp, head aching. She pauses to catch herself, shaking it off. Lexa eyes her warily.

“A.L.I.E. can still have an effect on you.” Lexa gives hand a squeeze. “You cannot let her win.” She urges.

Clarke swallows and straightens. “Let’s go.”

Lexa nods, eyes filled with fortitude.

They enter the doors and Clarke immediately overwhelmed. Gold chandeliers hang from the high ceiling and the floor is adorned with elaborate marble slabs. Strange gadgets line the walls. Lexa treads cautiously, her steps quiet and Clarke tries her best to mimic her movements, her own boots too loud against the ground.

She draws her sword methodically, eyes narrowed and ready. Clarke follows her through the halls until a woman in red appears before them. Clarke hadn’t even noticed her approaching. It was as if she had appeared out of thin air.

“I have heard much about you, Clarke.” The woman’s raspy voice greets. Lexa takes a defensive stance.

“A.L.I.E.” The commander greets coldly.

“Lexa, it is nice to see you again.” She says with a tilt of her head. Clarke looks between the two vigilantly.

Lexa’s remains unwavered, body standing slightly in front of Clarke’s protectively. A.L.I.E. takes a step towards them, back straight and hands linked calmly in front of her. She hears a low growl escape from the back of the brunette’s throat.

“Clarke, may I speak with you in private?” She asks, her expression still impassive. She tightens her jaw almost in unison with the girl in front of her.

“What for?” She challenges. A.L.I.E. looks at Lexa with a grin.

“I have a feeling that I can help you.” She proposes. Clarke eyes her suspiciously. _What game is she trying to play?_

“With your friend, _Jasper_.” She emphasizes. Blue eyes go wide and she swallows. Lexa’s brows knot together in confusion and she curls her fingers, adjusting the grip on her sword tighter.  
  
Clarke shakes her head and signals for her to retreat. She looks pensively at the blonde who tries her best to portray her thoughts, blue eyes pleading. The brunette finally gives an apprehensive nod, jacketing her sword.

“We will be but a minute.” A.L.I.E. smiles, turning on her heels. She waits for Clarke to follow.

Clarke turns to Lexa who is watching her with uneasiness. “I’ll be okay.” She assures, cupping the girl’s face before leaning in so that only she can hear.

“Go find Becca.” She instructs. “I’ll find you.” She promises.

“How?” Lexa whispers back.

“I just will.” She ensures. Before she can see the girl’s resolve crack any more, she redirects her attention back at A.L.I.E. and follows her stride across the marbled tiles. She hopes Lexa is going to be okay. _She will be_. She tells herself. She’s Lexa. She’s fearless.

They walk until A.L.I.E. pauses in a large open room, taking a seat on a cream colored sofa. She waits for Clarke to join her but the blonde remains standing.

“What have you done to Jasper?” She cuts straight to the point, voice biting.

A.L.I.E. remains composed. “I have not done anything to your friend.” She smiles. “He has entered the City on his own.”

“Then why can’t he leave like everybody else?” She accuses. “If he still alive, he should be able to come and go as he please.” She notes.

“And are you certain that he _is_ alive?” She counters.

Clarke balls her fists at her side at A.L.I.E.'s implications.

“You can still help him, Clarke.” A.L.I.E. proposes. “You can stay here.” She gestures around them. “You can all stay here and it will be as if nothing has changed.”

“Never.” She says defiantly through gritted teeth.

“If you intend to follow through with your plan, you will lose him.” A.L.I.E. threatens. “You will lose _her_.” She toys. Clarke digs her nails rougher into her palm.

“Do not make the wrong choice here, Clarke.” A.L.I.E. urges. “We could be great enemies.” She cautions. “Or even greater allies.” She smiles.

“I won’t.” Clarke says firmly. Just as she turns her back on the woman, she feels a sense of dizziness overcome her and she staggers slightly.

“You have entered against your own free will.” A.L.I.E. observes.

“Join me and your people will be safe.” She offers. Clarke knows she’s choosing the words purposefully.

“No.” The blonde refuses. “You can’t control me.” She walks away knowing that A.L.I.E. has no physical hold on her. She tries to keep her mind strong as her vision grows hazier.

“What if we make a deal?” A.L.I.E. offers coyly.

“What kind of deal?” She freezes mid-step, pivoting.

“I will give you Jasper back, if you promise to leave the City to me.” She proposes.

Clarke considers it for a moment. She safeguards her mind before answering.

“Fine.” She nods. “I’ll do it.” She says, voice strained.

Jasper appears at her side a moment later.

“You’ve made the right choice.” A.L.I.E. smiles. The blonde grimaces back, forcing herself to remain calm as she takes Jasper by the wrist and tugs him forward.

“Clarke?” He asks, now aware of the blonde’s identity. “Where are we going?”

“We’re getting out of here.” She says, not bothering to turn to him. She continues to drag them through the streets, trying desperately to figure out where Lexa and Becca could be.

“Clarke.” She hears a voice call out to her. Ontari sprints towards her.

“Ontari” She breathes a sigh of relief. “We have to find Lexa.” She informs. The brunette nods, closing her eyes as she clears her mind of their surroundings. She breathes evenly for a moment until her brown eyes open again.

“Come.” She instructs, leading the way. The sky darkens and they look up to see a crack of lightning above them.

“The city cannot sustain against resistance.” Ontari notes. Another clash booms over them but she doesn’t flinch. “A.L.I.E. cannot control you and it is disrupting the balance of the City.” She explains.

They keep running until Clarke sees a familiar figure in the distance.

Just as they’re about to reach Lexa, a group of A.L.I.E.'s men take them by surprise.

“Go!” Ontari insists, drawing her weapons. “I’ll hold them off.” She prepares herself, bending her knees for leverage.

Clarke is momentarily dumbstruck her eyes scouting the distance between where they are, and where Lexa is also now fighting her own band of guards. “Clarke, I said _go_!” She shouts.

The blonde shakes her fear and pulls Jasper with her.

 _Something’s wrong._ She hears off in the distance. It sounds like her mother’s voice.

 _You can’t pull her out._ Another voice says.

The final man falls at Lexa’s feet and she’s panting.

“Clarke?” Lexa senses her presence, looking up from where she had been towering over the man, withdrawing her sword from his throat. “Are you alright?” She asks.

“Are _you_?” Clarke cups her face.

“I’m fine.” Lexa assures with a smile.

“Where’s Becca?” Clarke asks, her head is pounding but she fights it.

Lexa’s eyes are saddened. “The City is rebelling.” She concedes.

 _It hasn’t been three hours yet. She still has time._ The distant speaker interrupts them again and they both look up. Clarke is starting to become more aware of their voices, her lungs constricting.

 _She could be hurt._ Abby says.

 _She is._ Raven shoots back. _You have to let her take it._

 _What if she can’t handle it?_ She can tell her mother is worried.

“You can.” Lexa says, looking back down at Clarke. “Ste yuj, Clarke. You must keep fighting.” She encourages with a forced smile.

“Your mind is changing, Clarke.” Lexa catches her as she falls. “You’ve done well.” She brushes the stray hair from Clarke’s face. “I can finish it from here.” She offers.

The blonde pushes through the horrible feeling in her head, holding her gaze.

“No.” She insists, grabbing a hold of Lexa’s sleeves as her body starts to tremble.

Lexa brushes her thumb gently against her temple. “I will hold them off. You need to go, _niron_.”

“Lexa, no, please.” Clarke tries to sit up, but finds her body paralyzed.

“They will be here soon.” Lexa pleads. “You must go now.”

“Lexa!” She cries out, desperately, a sharp pain shooting through her spine.

“Clarke,” Lexa urges. “Duty stands on the back of sacrifice.”

“You’re not something to be sacrificed, damn it!” The blonde’s grip tightens as another pain shoots through her chest.

“Clarke, please.” Lexa begs, all guards let down, vulnerable only for Clarke. “You must.”

“No. No.” She feels her body starting to seize. “No.” she begs. _Not again. She won’t accept it._

 _She’s waking up._ She hears from far-off.

“I want to stay here with you.” She cries out in agony. “Please. Let me stay.”

Lexa kisses her cheek, letting her lips linger slightly.  “You must go.” Her eyes are glossy when she pulls back. “They are your people.”

It feels too familiar. And as it plays out, she can only hope that this time, there’s hope for a different outcome.

"Then come with me.” She pleads. “ _You_ are my people too.”

“You know that I can’t do that.” Lexa says gingerly.

She’s losing her all over again. Clarke's chest constricts. 

“I will _always_ be with you.” Green eyes says with a heartbroken smile. “And I am waiting. Make me fall in love with you again.”

“What if I can’t?” Clarke forces her muscles to choke out.

 “You made me do it once.” Lexa says softly. “It would be impossible for me not to do so again. You and I were meant for each other. In every life, in every way.”

 She gently passes Clarke from her arms into Jasper’s, standing and turning toward the mob that was now running toward them. The last thing she sees is Lexa, in her battle glory, twirling her swords, crying out for blood.

She wakes to beeping and hushed whispers crowding her face.

“Honey?” Her mother asks with a pained expression.

Clarke’s eyes brim with tears and tilts her head to the side, allowing them to slip over the bridge of her nose. Her eyes clench shut and she lets herself cry, pain overwhelming her body.

Her gaze falls upon Jasper who is still unmoving, lying on the bed beside her.

“Jasper?” she croaks. Her throat feels like it’s on fire. She must have been screaming a lot more than she expected. Her mother bows her head, shaking it from side to side.

“He didn’t make it.” She apologizes, her voice cracking as her sadness fill her eyes. Clarke’s stomach drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was really tough to write and I'm sure it's even tougher to read. My inbox is always open if anybody needs to talk. Ste yuj, Clexakru. 
> 
> PS. Props to anybody who realized that I planned it out to be Ch. 13.


	14. The Cleanse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes change is a blessing...  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Something's Telling Me by Josh Damigo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I whipped up as an apology for the heartbreak of the last chapter: http://heyjayyay.tumblr.com/post/142258774873/war-is-brewing-clarke-i-need-you
> 
> Other art can be found here: http://heyjayyay.tumblr.com/tagged/sketches
> 
> This one's rather long. I considered splitting it into two, but I decided against it. Hope you enjoy!

“But he was there.” She insists, shaking her head in denial. “He was with me. Jasper was with me!” Her voice elevates slightly and she pushes through the burn. “Jasper was…”

“Honey.” Abby cuts off. “Please, calm down. You need to rest.” She says, smoothing her hair down in an attempt to coax her daughter back down. It has the opposite effect.

“No!” She cries. “He can’t be gone.” _She_ can’t be gone.

“We knew this was a possibility when we started this.” Her mother says sadly.

“He was there when I was waking up. He was there when you pulled me out. You were supposed to take him too.” She says frantically.

“She can’t be gone.” Clarke hiccups.

“ _She?_ ” Her mother raises an eyebrow, her hair now frozen in place, fingers still tangled in the blonde’s hair.

Her eyes fall to her lap and she shakes her head at her slip up.

“You were crying out for her.” Her mother sighs.

“What?” The vacancy in her eyes slowly filling again.

“Lexa.” The doctor clarifies. “You were crying out for her.” She explains. “When you were waking up. You didn’t say anything about Jasper. Not once.”

“I…” She trails off, feeling somewhat guilty, but her mother is quick to respond, placing a reassuring hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

"You trusted her.” She observes. “She got you out.”

Clarke can only nod in reply.

“I’m sorry.” Her mother trails off, leaving the statement open ended. The woman’s weary eyes meet her daughters. _I’m sorry I didn’t have faith in her._ They seem to say.

“It took so long for me to understand them.” Her mother apologies. “All I really wanted was safety and happiness for you on the ground.”

“She gave me that.” The blonde rasps.

“I know.” The corners of her lips pull up slightly. “I think I knew for a while, I just didn’t want to admit it.” Abby confesses.

“You did?” The shock is evident in her voice.

Her mother nods solemnly. “Your eyes would lighten when she was around.” Her mother tells her. “Just like when you were a little girl and you would win a chess game against Wells, or finish a new drawing and come running all the way to Medical just to show me.”

She swallows the lump in her throat and her mother contains.

“You put her before everyone else because you trusted here.” The doctor concludes. “And she was always willing to make an exception to protect you and our people.”

“It was mutual.” Clarke whispers. The words are pounding in her heart, but barely ghost in the air out loud.

Her mother only offers an understanding smile, brushing Clarke’s cheek with a sympathetic hum.

“I didn’t always trust the Commander.” Abby admits. “But Lexa, I think I did.” She pauses, chewing the inside of her lip. Clarke waits for her to speak again. When she does, her voice is vulnerable. “I trusted her because she looked at you the way your father used to look at me.” A tear spills over her bottom lid, trailing down her cheek onto her Clarke’s lap.

“Sorry.” She apologies, brushing the tear from her daughter’s blanket before wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, gathering herself back together.

“I miss them.” Clarke grasps her hand.

“So do I.” Her mother agrees, bringing her daughter fully into her arms, allowing Clarke to cry like a child. Her child. The weight the world on her shoulders slip off and she lets herself be held. After all, she was only human. They both were.

\---  
  
She spends too much time sleeping and her tailbone is starting to ache from being pressed against the measly cot. She flips onto her stomach only to find that position even more uncomfortable than the first.

“Clarke! A voice hisses in the darkness. “Will you stop squirming?” Raven huffs, throwing her spare pillow at the blonde.

“There has to be another way.” Clarke says to out loud.

“What are you talking about?” The mechanic groans. “Go back to sleep.” She flops over, back facing the blonde.

“The City.” Clarke clarifies, though her response is still rather vague. “I have no proof that it worked.”

This catches the brunette’s attention for a moment, who turns to the side with a bit of effort, adjusting her leg with a slight wince.

“You know it did.” She said levelly, pointing to her leg.

“Do you though?” Clarke counters. “Are you  _100% positive_ it worked?”

“Clarke…” Raven says sharply.

“I have to make sure.” The blonde doesn’t heed to the warning.  “I never saw it. I never saw the end.”

“You’re being crazy.” The brunette shakes her head. “You don’t need to see it.” _You might not have been able to handle witnessing that type of destruction again._ Is what she really means. “It’s gone.” She says with finality.

"No!” Clarke practically shouts. Someone groans in the adjacent cot and the conversation pauses, both girls alert, listening into the darkness until the rustling of sheets stops and a small snore is heard.

“No.” She resumes, voice lower this time. “A.L.I.E. was supposed to give me Jasper back.”

“You can’t trust her.” Raven says objectively. “She wasn’t real.”

“I need to talk to Ontari.” Clarke shakes her head. “ _She’s_ real.” She counters. “And she’ll know what happened after I got out.”

“Then radio her.” The brunette shrugs, flopping back on the pillows of her cot.

“No.” Clarke objects. “I have to see her. _In person_.” She emphasizes.

There’s a beat and Clarke thinks Raven is either ignoring her or has fallen back asleep.

“If I cover for you, then you better be kissing my ass for the rest of eternity.” Clarke can almost hear the girl smirking.

She shuffles out of bed, the cot creaking slightly as she extracts herself, carefully removing the monitoring equipment and shutting it off. She hisses as she withdraws then needle embedded in her arms, before moving to do the same for the mechanic.

“You’re coming with me.” She says.

“What?!” Raven exclaims. Now that Clarke’s closer, she can actually see the brunette’s eyes widen.

“Shh!” She hushes, continuing to go about with doing away with the devices. “It’s not like you want to be cooped up in here anyway.” Clarke points out.

“True.” The mechanic bites her lip, deliberating. “Alright. I’m in.” She nods, hands coaxing her braced leg over the edge of the bed.

Clarke spots her, but doesn’t actually reach out touch her. But she makes sure she knows that the blonde would be there if she needed to lean some of her weight on her.

 The mechanic helps disable the locks of the medical bay, hobbling as quickly and quietly as she can through the buildings. They weave to the shop garage and the mechanic uses her access badge to get them inside. They approach a large vehicle and Raven swipes a set of keys tapped beneath one of the metal chairs in the open space nearby.

“So, Polis, huh?” The brunette asks, swinging the door open and climbing into the rover. “I’ve never been. What's it like?” She asks buckling her seat belt.

Clarke follows suit, looking out the window. Raven backs the vehicle out and they exit the gates easily when Raven holds up her badge. She has been held to some level of respect here in Arkadia, as a valued genius, critical to their survival. Clarke can’t help but feel a sense of pride. Raven was and _is_ a fighter.

“Clarke?” The brunette brings her out of her daze. “You okay, Princess?” She asks, using the term not in a degrading way. She gives an encouraging smile.

“Life changing.” Clarke finally responds.

The brunette quirks a brow at her, taking her eyes off the road for a moment to search the blonde’s expression.

“Polis.” She clarifies. “Polis is life changing.” Clarke says.

The brunette hums in approval, turning the radio up to a comfortable low, allowing the background noise to encase around them into the night. Clarke looks out the window into the silhouetted trees and hills buzzing by, untouched and standing tall. It’s beautiful and heart breaking at the same time. A little like herself, she thinks.

They arrive just as the day breaks and Clarke walks at a slow enough pace for Raven to observe the market and all its wonders, without appearing to appeal to her handicap. She trades a set of gloves for some dried meats and a uniquely carved metallic charm, handing them to the mechanic. She smiles gratefully and places the charm on the chain of her necklace next to Finn’s raven.

The two continue on their way, the blonde trying her best to remain leisurely, though her heart springs forward when she can smell the burning wood of the flames that light the capital building. She takes the mechanic by the wrist and tugs her forward, her grip tightening when they approach the front entryway.

“I take it we’re here.” The girl eyes the guards flanking both sides of the doorway carefully.

“ _Wanheda_.” One of them grunts in greeting.

“I’m here to see Ontari.” She announces. He nods, stance strong and foreboding while the other guard steps forward to pull the doors open for them to step through.

“Really friendly bunch, these grounders, huh?” The mechanic says sarcastically.

“Come on.” Clarke rolls her eyes. She leads them to the council room expecting to see Ontari holding some sort of meeting with the clans but finds that she is nowhere to be seen. After searching through her other suspected rooms, it finally hits her. She swallows, fists clenched. Raven picks up on the shift in the atmosphere and follows closely behind.

Clarke knocks on the door to the Commander’s chamber.

“Are you sure you should do that?” Raven whispers, but before Clarke can respond, the door is opened and Ontari stands before her, somewhat confused.

“What are you doing here?” She says carefully. It wasn’t intended to sound harsh. It was more of a  like a statement of surprise, if anything else.

“What happened after I left?” She blurts, still somewhat conflicted to know the answer.

The Commander sighs, eyes not meeting her gaze.

“My friend, Jasper.” Clarke tries. “He never made it out. Is he…”

“I’m sorry.” Ontari says gravely. “But it is done.”

“What about…” She can’t bring herself to say it. Ontari doesn’t have to say a word back either. She simply turns to look the Skygirl in the eyes, brown orbs completely vacant, not of trace of Lexa remains behind in the empty pool of brown.

“She’s gone.” Clarke's voice cracks as the reality slams her in the chest. Ontari nods in confirmation.

_She’s gone._

“She had warned you that this would…” Ontari tries to sympathize.

“I know.” Clarke cuts off, not wanting to hear it said out loud.

Ontari stalks over to the dresser drawer, returning with her fist clenched. She holds out her hand and place the object into Clarke’s. The metal piece is cool against her palm.

“You should go find her.” She says calmly. “I have nothing more I can offer.” Brown orbs are apologetic.

Clarke swallows as she fights back a wave of tears.

“Come on, Raven.” She says, pocketing the embellishment in her leather jacket before turning her attention back to the mechanic who had been watching the scene unfold before her with a sort of tensed confusion.

“What was that about?” The brunette asks when they exit the capital building.

Clarke sighs knowing she can’t hide the truth forever. “You know how you saw Finn?”

Raven nods.

“I saw Lexa.” Clarke says, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

“Oh.” The brunette lets out quietly. “So you and Lexa?”

“Yeah.” She simply nods.

“I’m sorry.” The mechanic apologies, wrapping a tan hand around her wrist. Clarke allows herself to be pulled to her, and the brunette holds on to her trembling body tightly. Despite their differences, there were so many things that the two still could relate to, and only between them. Raven understood. Lexa was her support system. The healer when she felt broken. The guide when she felt lost. The True North that gave her a sense of direction. Just as Finn had been for Raven.

“Do you want to go back h-“ She catches herself. “To Arkadia?” She finishes. She shakes her head, still buried somewhat into the brunette. Raven gives her another squeeze and waits until Clarke is ready to pull away.

Raven tries to carouse the stalls with excitement and wonder, for Clarke’s sake, but both girls’ moods have grown sullen since the brief meeting with the grounder commander. Eventually, they return to the rover, Raven massaging her leg against the brace.

“Still good?” She asks, blue eyes diverting when Raven catches her looking at her.

“Still good.” She confirms with a nod, placing the keys in the ignition. They drive back towards the sky settlement, both deep in thought.

When they weave through the terrain as the sun sets in the distance. Eventually, they steer towards a boulder and a familiar clearing and Clarke finally speaks, her voice sounding all too loud between them after having been sitting in silence for so long.

“Stop here.” She instructs, unbuckling her safety belt.

“What?” The brunette asks, killing the motor. “Why?”

The blonde tugs at the lock, opening the door. 

“Where are you going?” The mechanic questions.

“I told you I didn’t want to go back yet.” Clarke reminds her and Raven nods slowly.

 “Okay.” She says empathetically. “So what do I tell Abby?”

“Nothing.” Clarke pauses. “Tell her it’s done.” She says with a broken smile.

Raven nods, waiting for Clarke to step back from the vehicle before restarting the engine and driving off slowly. She gives a hesitant wave through the rear view mirror and Clarke watches the rover until it disappears out of sight.

Her feet carry her automatically. It’s as if her whole body is being tugged in the direction by an invisible string. She knows exactly where she’s going and who she’s going to. She just hopes she’s home. 

The hut is small and honestly, she’s a bit surprised at herself for being able to recognize it after only being there once. But it’s familiar. A lot of things are here. As she approaches, she can see the silhouette of the girl in the window, illuminated by candlelight. She only has to knock once before the door is opened and a pair of concerned green eyes meet hers, watching her earnestly.

“Clarke,” The brunette shuffles to the side of the door, holding it open and leading the blonde inside. “What's wrong?” She asks. Lexa’s voice is intimately soft and Clarke breaks.

“What _isn't_ wrong?” She cries, tears tumbling down her face. The girl in front of her frowns, ushering her to the bedroom, leading her with careful nudge further into the dark room until the back of her knees skim against the bed and she sits atop the fur.

Lexa brushes her knuckles against Clarke’s cheek with a sympathetic smile before walking over to the dresser, extracting a single candle, lighting it and placing it gently in Clarke's hand.

The blonde’s hands are trembling and Lexa wraps her fingers tenderly around Clarke’s hand, holding the candle in place.

The flame dances in the shadows of her dilated pupils and they sit in silence as Lexa runs her thumb against Clarke’s comfortingly. Waiting. Always so patiently.

“I saw her again.” Clarke finally croaks into the quiet.

Lexa chews the inside of her lip with a sympathetic tilt of her chin, allowing Clarke to continue. 

“She's still as beautiful as ever.” The blonde recalls.

The girl's eyes are sad. 

“You look like her.” Clarke says somberly.

“So you've said.” Lexa gives a gentle smile. “You said I remind you of her.” She points out.

Clarke nods and their eyes meet.

Emerald eyes seem to penetrate through her. Lexa leans forward and Clarke’s heart starts to thump, eyes locked. Lexa’s lips purse, dipping her head down.

And then she lets out a puff of air, blowing out the candle, encompassing them in black.

It takes a moment for Clarke to register what had just happened, her pupils taking time to adjust to the change in lighting, as she hears the brunette lean away from her with the furs shuffling gently.

“W-Why did you do that?” Clarke stutters, somewhat stunned.

“I don’t want to remind you of her.” Lexa whispers quietly. “Let’s just sit here for a moment. So you can forget about the world.” She entices.

“It’s dark.” Clarke says simply. It holds more meaning and the brunette seems to understand the implications.

“It is.” Lexa agrees and Clarke can just barely make out a nod of her silhouette. “Try to ignore it.” She encourages.

The girl takes a breath, inhaling calmly before exhaling in the same, controlled manner. Clarke allows her eyes to flutter closed but all she sees behind her eyelids is Lexa.

She sees Lexa on her horse, dashing with confidence toward Polis.

She sees Lexa with her sash trailing behind her as she paces, deep in thought about the council room.

She sees Lexa descending the stairs from her throne, head raised and a cool expression on her face.

She sees Lexa brushing her hair shyly, eyes soft and open for Clarke to peer into, a passageway straight to her heart.

Tension builds in Clarke's stomach until she can't hold it in anymore. She surges forward and collides her lips roughly against the girl's, despite the darkness. It’s desperate and sloppy, and Clarke loses herself.

Lexa is hesitant in her reciprocation, humoring the kiss for a moment before carefully pushing against Clarke's shoulders, shaking her head. 

“I...” Clarke tries.

“It's okay.” Lexa cuts off. She doesn't ask her to apologize. But she fumbles in the dim light trying to relighting the candle. When her face illuminates, Clarke can see that her green eyes are solemn but full of understanding.

Clarke swallows and the girl’s green eyes are kind yet curious.

“Do you have to return to your people?” She asks delicately.

“No.” Clarke finally manages to find her voice.  _You are my people. My person. My only._

“There is some place I would like to take you.” Lexa says. “Would you be available to accompany me tomorrow morning?” She inquires.

“What about the candle stand?” Clarke asks, recalling that Lexa now has a new job. A different job. But somehow still so fitting of who she is.

“It can go a day without me.” She smiles sweetly and Clarke’s heart feels warmer. “I am not that important.”

 _“_ But you _are.”_ Clarke retorts without hesitation. The brunette blushes slightly, standing from the bed.

“You may stay here if you like.”  She offers, though her tone sounds more like a question.

Clarke nods, consenting, and Lexa maneuvers to the wardrobe, retrieving a spare nightgown, handing it to the blonde before retreating to the doorway.

“Thank you.” She says gratefully.

Lexa gives her a single nod. “Goodnight, Clarke.” Her eyes are sparkling, even from the distance.  Clarke gives small smile, her breath hitching as she watches Lexa’s retreating figure.

She falls asleep easier that night, completely exhausted, yet surrounded in the scent of Lexa, candles, and warmth. She feels the heat in her chest spreading throughout her until they reach her toes. It’s familiar and she can’t help but revel in it.

When she wakes, Lexa has already placed a tray by her bedside and reading a tattered book in the chair located at the corner of the room. The sight brings her a sense of peace, being able to see the girl so comfortable and calm.

 She clears her throat and Lexa looks up.

“Good morning.” She greets, standing and closing the book carefully, setting it on the chair in her place. “I hope you find this to your liking.” She gestures to the tray of dried meats and berries. Clarke nods, already knowing that she will. Simply because Lexa gave it to her. She rolls slightly to grab the tray, setting it on her lap above the covers.

“Join me?” Clarke offers, pushing the food towards her. Lexa pauses hesitantly before taking a seat next to the blonde.

“Are you ready?” The brunette asks after Clarke is satiated, and has changed back into her clothing.

 _Ready_. Clarke thinks. Such a complicated concept.

“I think so.” She says finally, slipping her jacket on over her shoulders 

They stroll along the river for what seems like hours until the bubbling of water soon magnifies into a crash. Clarke had never seen so much water.

“Have you been to the ocean before, Clarke?” Lexa asks gently, noting her awestruck expression.

Clarke shakes her head and Lexa’s eyes illuminate as the sun reflects against them. Her hair is glowing and her smile, radiating.

“Come then.” She grins. “This is just the beginning.” She prefaces, shrugging off her own coat until she is left in just her thin dress. She bunches the fabric up at her thighs, holding it carefully as she wades into the water.

“Come on, Clarke.” She encourages. “Trust me.”

  _I do._ She wants to say.

Clarke quickly follows the brunette’s lead, taking off her jacket and rolling up her pants. The water is cold and crisp, but the blonde finds it welcoming. It could also have something to do with the way Lexa is smiling at her. _It definitely does._

She moves through the water clumsily at first, still unused to the flow of the waves against her as her feet sink deeper into the sand with every pull of the tide. It takes a few tries until she can time the waves properly, allowing her to walk freely. And it is; freeing, that is.

She still gets the bottoms of her pants wet, but not enough to be uncomfortable. _Not at all._

The two bask in the sun, splashing freely, cheeks flushed and eyes dancing. The waves get stronger, pushing and pulling; building and washing away.

_It’s cleansing. It’s release._

“Your mind is changing.” Lexa discerns with approval, “You’re more liberated.”

Clarke nods with a shy smile.

“You have a nice smile, Clarke.” The brunette compliments. And then Clarke is both beaming and blushing at the same time, something she never thought she’d be capable of doing again. Lexa’s green eyes are heartfelt as they lock with hers. Clarke feels that familiar thudding against her rib cage again.

Just as she’s about to do something stupid, a particularly strong wave comes by and pushes the two causing them to stumble back. Lexa catches them before they both hit the water and Clarke can feel her muscles flex against her skin. She’s softer now, no longer training, but still strong. Still Lexa.

The brunette pulls away nervously and leads them to the shore. “We should wait for the waves to calm.” She suggests, licking her lips. Clarke lets her gaze fall for a moment before adhering.

They sit on the beach afterwards, exhausted, listening to the surf lap against the beach.  

Clarke lets herself take it in, closing her eyes and tilting her chin to the sky. She tastes in the salty air, breathes in the breeze kissing her face, feels the sunlight heating her skin and the sand stuck between her toes. She hears Lexa mumbling to herself and peeks one eye open.

“In peace may you leave this shore. In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

Clarke freezes when she realizes what the girl is reciting. “Where did you learn that from?” She gasps. 

“It is a constant saying that I hear in my dreams.” Lexa blushes, turning to face the blonde. “Do you know it?”

“I do.” Clarke nods. “Do you know who’s saying it in your dreams?” She asks.

Lexa shakes her head with a disappointed frown. “They sound familiar, but I can’t quite place who the speaker is.”

Clarke nods dejectedly. The waves come closer to where they are sitting, still growing stronger. “We should probably head back.” She observes. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to die down any time soon.”

The brunette affirms her observations with a nod in agreement. Clarke rolls down her pant legs, brushing herself off as Lexa grabs her jacket for her. As she does, the small brass headpiece falls to the ground with a muffled clink.

Lexa looks up stunned, recognizing the symbol immediately. Clarke tenses. She had completely forgotten it was in there. Her mind had been enraptured by the brunette standing before her. 

“Where did you get this?” Lexa whispers timidly.

Clarke doesn’t answer, but instead lifts her gaze to find Lexa’s. Her green eyes are pensive and Clarke’s heart starts drumming rapidly.

“Something’s telling me that you are very important to me.” She finally speaks. “I don’t quite know what it is.” She confesses. “I was in an accident a few months ago, or so I’m told.” She shrugs. “I cannot remember great parts of my life.” The brunette explains.

“It’s okay.” Clarke is surprisingly calm. “I’m sure it’s terrifying.” She consoles. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

_I already know._

The brunette gives a grateful smile.

“Are you _sure_ we haven’t met before?” She asks one last time.

Clarke feels the tug at her heart when she shakes her head.

“No.” She forces out. 

Lexa gives a half smile and a sigh.

“Alright.” She nods. “We should get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and all of the Clexa moments. I actually wrote a fluffy/happy chapter! Spread the word! :P


	15. The Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always a push and a pull when it comes to riding the waves.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: So In Love With You by Jake Etheridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I have a fun surprise for you all. You can now buy Lexa's headpiece in my Etsy shop. 
> 
> https://www.etsy.com/shop/heyjayyay
> 
> There are necklaces, bracelets, and headpieces for cosplay.

Clarke watches Lexa readjust, straightening before re-braiding her hair into a more simple design, no longer having hand maidens to assist with them anymore. Despite the fact that she is no longer _Heda,_ the green-eyed goddess still looks all the bit regal to Clarke.

It takes everything in the sky girl to resist the urge to tell the truth or give into the temptation of brushing her hand against Lexa’s occasionally, something she had always wished to do many a time when they were back in Polis. She had always stopped herself because of who they were. But now, they were simply Clarke and Lexa. Two girls living on the ground. But even being Clarke and Lexa, they weren’t the same Clarke and Lexa that had hidden behind silent walls and smiled behind the closed doors of the capital. Circumstances had changed. They had both changed.

After leaving the shore, Clarke has to take a minute to recollect herself and settle her nerves. It’s not that she doesn’t want Lexa to know. She does. But that’s just it. _She wants Lexa to know_.

But not like this. Not because she has to remind her of it or because she had to tell her their story all over again. The possibility of trying to tell Lexa everything and having her not remember any of it, or have the heavy load of information completely scare her off is too much of a risk for the blonde. She can’t tell her. She isn’t sure what hurts more.  So she stays silent.

The walk back to the small Trikru village is quiet and tense, both girls secretly stealing glances at one another when she thinks the other isn’t looking.

Clarke gets caught first, diverting her eyes, practically snapping her neck from turning away so rapidly. Lexa’s glances were much more careful, choosing to observe the girl through the corner of her eye, long dark lashes helping to mask her green pupils. Clarke still _feels_ her though. Deep in her veins, her bones, her soul, and her spirit.

Eventually, after the third not-so-subtle set of exchanges, the grounder speaks up.

“Is there something you wish to discuss?” The brunette asks kind-heartedly.

Clarke pauses, studying the girl in front of her. Lexa is composed in her stance, fingers crossed patiently with her hands clasped in front of her waist. Her lips are slanted up slightly, tilted to the left. That lopsided smirk has always made the blonde’s heart skip a beat, especially when Lexa looked at her like this, with such genuine, gentle, green eyes. The blonde fights the urge to completely get lost in them while Lexa waits for Clarke to respond.

“Clarke?” Lexa asks cautiously with a timid whisper of her name, almost as if she’s afraid the recital of it would send her running off.

“No.” Clarke snaps out of it. “Not yet.” She says, choosing her words carefully. She tries her best to distance herself from the brunette, retreating a small step backwards. Lexa, keen to Clarke’s emotions nods stiffly, sensing the change in the blonde’s demeanor.

She turns back to focus on their journey, emerald orbs fallen to the ground as she steps. Clarke hadn’t meant to hurt her. She was just _scared._ Something she didn’t like admitting to herself, and definitely not others. Even Lexa. She hates the way the brunette can make her feel so many emotions at once until she’s drowning in herself.

Lexa leads them, still aware of her pace, making sure Clarke is still with her. The blonde allows herself to follow a few steps behind, but not too far back, as if she were somehow tethered by an in invisible force, causing an uncomfortable tug at her heart.

She doesn’t realize that she has been crying until she sniffs and the grounder stops, pivoting and taking a careful step towards her waiting by her side. Clarke hastily wipes her tears away with the back of her sleeve. It’s pointless though. She knows Lexa has seen her. That was something Lexa was always perceptive of; Clarke.

“Have I done something to upset you?” The grounder asks. She looks at the blonde with a broken expression, as if _she_ was the one with the aching heart instead.

“No.” Clarke shakes her head. “I just…” She doesn’t know how to finish. How many things they never got to finish. And how many things they never got to start. Another tear escapes and she doesn’t bother to hide it, her blue eyes deep and full of conflict.

“Maybe we should rest.” Lexa suggests, gesturing to a fallen log for Clarke to take a seat on. The blonde hesitantly obeys.

“We still have a ways to go.” Lexa notes. “I can go gather something to eat while you wait here.” The girl offers. Regardless of how Clarke feels, her heart still gets the best of her. She was never very good at the head over heart thing. That was Lexa’s forte.

She shakes her head, not wanting to imagine what could happen if the girl were to venture off on her own. Watery blue eyes plead with green and the brunette nods in understanding.

“Okay.” Lexa says, settling a respectable distance away from the blonde.

There’s a lull in the conversation as Clarke sniffles again. Lexa gives her a moment, placing her hands in her lap as she offers a sense of warmth with her eyes, rather than physical contact. It only makes the tears fall faster. Finally Clarke simply has to look away from those welcoming emerald orbs to get herself to focus on steadying her breath.

Once her tears have subsided, the brunette speaks again.

“May I tell you a story, Clarke?” She asks, biting her lip in anticipation of what Clarke might think. It’s random, but Clarke is in no mood to talk. But she’s fine with listening, especially to Lexa’s soothing voice.

The blonde gives a small tilt of her chin, allowing the brunette to continue.

“Alright.” Lexa begins. “There once was a herd of horses, black as coal with a coat of hair dark as night. They were known as the N _atgapa.”_ The grounder portrays.

“The _Natgapa_ were strong and fierce, attentive to their surroundings and adept with instincts. When they ran across the plains, it was like thunder, as they travelled in large groups and only in the shadows. These horses were feared by the other herds, especially the _Sonchagapa_ , the light horses.” She pauses to consider the blonde’s reaction.

Clarke listens attentively and nods for her to continue. Lexa responds with thoughtful, beautiful smile and it instantly makes Clarke’s heart bloom.

"The _Sonchagapas_ were horses with rare blue eyes and breathtaking, flowing manes of gold and yellow.” Lexa describes, her smile widening until there are small creases lining her eyes.

“One day the leader of the of the _Natgapa_ encountered the most magnificent _Sonchagapa_ in the land and immediately knew that she would be the one he wanted to mate with. He thought she was so incredible and so good to see the kindness and light inside of him that even he could not see for himself.” She expresses. The sunlight had started to dance through the trees and Lexa was absolutely radiate. Clarke has to remind herself to swallow because she’s practically drooling over the brunette. Because here was her beautiful Lexa, telling her beautiful things, making her feel beautiful things.

“It just so happened that she was the leader of the _Sonchagapa_ herd. And they fell in love. She brought light to his dark world. And he brought her a sense of safety and comfort.” The brunette explains. 

“But the rest of the _Natgapa_ were unhappy with that decision. They wanted to attack the _Sonchagapa_ for trying to steal their leader away because they wanted him to be feared and not seen as weak for falling in love.”

“And then what happened?” Clarke leans forward, acutely aware of the subliminal context. “What happened to them?”

“I don’t know.” The brunette answers bashfully. “I’m making it up as I go along.” 

“Oh.” Clarke frowns. The girl shifts the slightest bit closer to the blonde, attempting to bring comfort to her without overstepping her boundaries. When she’s certain that Clarke isn’t going to back away, she waits until the blonde looks up again to meet her gaze.

“I’d like to think they believed love was the most powerful force, and not weakness. I was going to say that they ran away and lived in love, until they died together in their old age. The end.” Lexa offers bashfully, cheeks tinting red. “Why? What do _you_ wish for the ending to be?”

The blonde pauses to think. “I think I’d want that to be just the _beginning_ of their story, not the end.” She finally says and Lexa’s face breaks into a wide smile.

“I think I would like that too.” The brunette agrees. There’s another flicker behind the girl’s green eyes that Clarke catches for a moment. It lingers there until Clarke clears her throat and when the brunette blinks, it’s gone again.

“Have you ridden a horse before?” Clarke questions, trying to direct the conversation elsewhere. She knows the answer, but the way that Lexa told the story made her think that maybe, she could try to tap into the girl’s subconscious without it being too obvious. Maybe it would make looking at this girl hurt a little less and burn a little more.

Lexa sighs. “A while ago.” She trails off. “Before the accident, it was something I really enjoyed.” She confesses. She doesn’t go into details, so Clarke doesn’t push it.

“Would you like to again?” The blonde asks, noting the way those emerald eyes seemed to light up at the offer. But then her face falls and habitually, Clarke wishes she could go back in time to just a few seconds earlier.

“But I do not have a horse.” Lexa says realistically.

Clarke nods. She doesn’t have a horse of her own, but she knows where to easily get one.

“You took me some place. Will you let me take you some place?” The blonde trades off.

The brunette nods.

“Let’s go.” She stands up, brushing the back of her pants off. She turns to see the brunette watching her, perplexed. Clarke gives a gentle smile, reaching for the girl’s hand, tugging her up.

They take a detour from the grounder village and walk towards Arkadia. When Lexa finally realizes where they’re headed, she freezes and tugs nervously at her braid.

“You can wait here if you’d like.” Clarke offers, sensing the girl’s hesitance. “It won’t take long.”

“It’s okay.” Lexa says. “It takes as long as it takes.” She smiles and Clarke’s stomach lurches.

“R-r-right.” She stutters. “I’ll be back in a second.”

The blonde dashes through the gates to her room, not bothering with pleasantries or any other exchanges except to sneak by Raven’s room. The Latina tells her she’s glad she’s back, but understands when Clarke tells her it’s only temporary so that she can use the radio. Raven willingly hands over the device, without question, from where it has been sitting on the desk. Clarke gives a grateful nod, dialing the frequency to the one used by Octavia and the rest of the grounder warriors. Luckily they aren’t far and with that, the two say their goodbyes with a quick embrace.

“Stay strong.” The brunette calls out after her.

“You too.” Clarke whispers though she’s out of earshot.

\---  
Clarke finds the brunette exactly where she left her, just outside the woods of Arkadia’s land. She’s picking petals off some wildflowers, a dazed look on her face. She doesn’t notice that Clarke has returned and startles slightly when the blonde’s boots are suddenly in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Clarke asks and the brunette blushes in embarrassment.

“Nothing important.” She tries to brush off. “Just some ancient folklore.” She shakes her head. “It’s silly.”

Clarke eyes the pile of flower stems and petals on the ground with a shrug. “They were beautiful, and now they’re dead.” She teases, but the brunette doesn’t fall for it.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Their petals will blow away in the wind, spreading their beauty even wider across the land. And their love will grow, even after death.” She says poetically.

Clarke accepts it and takes a seat beside Lexa, shoulders touching. Shortly after, the sound of hooves against the forest floor echoes around them.

A familiar brunette atop a thundering steed approaches them with a snort, a second, smaller mare tied to its side. The grounder warrior pats her horse’s mane rewardingly before swinging her leg fluidly around to dismount its strong body. The duo stands, approaching the girl as she retrieves a filed sack from the magnificent creature’s saddle.

“We weren’t sure how long you’d be gone.” Octavia admits, handing a bag over so she can untie the second of the joined animals. Clarke steals a glance inside at the supplies, finding a few bundles of food, a spare shirt, and a gun. She decides against attaching the gun to her waist and leaves it in the satchel, hanging on the side of the second steed. Octavia’s eyes widen when she realizes just who Clarke is with and the fact that there is only one horse, and two people.

“Don’t worry about it.” Clarke tries to say as calmly as possible. “Thank you, Octavia.” But the thought had crossed her mind as well when she saw the warrior approaching. She had been so caught up with Lexa that she hadn’t thought to mention that the girl was with her. It just felt natural to have Lexa there. _Always with her._

“Alright.” The warrior nods with a grunt. “Nice to see you again, Lexa.” She tries to say formally, but she had never been one for small talk. Not since Indra had taken her under her wing.

“I want to get back to Lincoln before Indra sends him on his next scouting trip.” Octavia says hastily. Clarke waves her off and Lexa gives her a tiny nod of acknowledgement. Soon they are left alone in the woods with the gentle mare standing guard.

“Lincoln is Octavia’s…” Lexa begins to ask.

“ _Natgapa_.” Clarke finishes for her. The brunette gives a toothy grin.

“I would have expected maybe it would be the other way around.” Lexa smirks and Clarke gives a huffed laugh.

“Here.” The blonde says, holding on the reins to Lexa. “Take these.” She feels the smile on her face matching the brunette’s.

“What about you?” The candlemaker asks.

“I’ll just walk beside you.” Clarke shrugs.

“Nonesense.” Lexa shakes her head in objection. “I don’t plan on a temperate trot.” She smirks confidently.

Clarke gives in to those green eyes, hoisting herself up to follow behind the brunette who climbs on all too naturally. The sight of Lexa perched on the mare, back straight, stance poised and trained brings back bubbling feelings within Clarke chest. She wraps her arms tightly around the brunette, using the moment as an excuse to cling onto the memory of her _Heda_ on horseback. 

“We’ll be okay.” The brunette assures, patting Clarke’s hands that were now clasped around her waist. Clarke realizes that since she can't see her face, Lexa probably thinks Clarke is afraid. _She is._ But not of the speed of the horse. The speed that Clarke is afraid of is a whole other animal. 

“I will not rush us.” Lexa promises, flicking her wrist to signal to the horse to start off at a gentle pace. They travel at leisurely rate, the grounder pointing out various types of foliage as Clarke listens intently to the knowledgeable girl.

“That’s an oak.” She says. “You can tell by the jagged shape of the leaves.”

“That one there has the most beautiful flowers that only bloom three days out of the entire season of spring.” She points out. “You just have to be patient enough to search for it.”

“Those look sturdy, but the bark is actually weak.” She critiques. “If you’re careful, you can peel it back with your hands and get to the soul of the tree.”

Clarke allows herself to lean into the brunette, eyes closed as she takes in the scent of her; honey, mint, Earth, and _Lexa._ Her muscles relax and she feels her fingers spreading across Lexa’s stomach, remembering the last time they were splayed out like this.

_I will fix you._

Instead of her chest aching, as it typically had, Clarke feels lighter to the point that it’s almost dizzying. Lexa still hasn’t moved her left hand from where she had placed it over the blonde’s and Clarke boldly interlaces their fingers together, feeling the brunette radiating warmth against her. Their moment of peace is cut short though.

Suddenly Clarke feels herself falling backwards as the mare rears up, whinnying frantically. Lexa falls a bit more gracefully, pulling the startled horse back to her with hushed tones. It takes Clarke a moment to realize what has happened but before she can react, an armed bandit had grabbed the unsuspecting brunette from behind.

Clarke feels her limbs go numb as she watches Lexa struggle against his bulky frame with gruff grunts and groans. She wiggles free for a moment, readying herself as she tries to fight against him with her bare hands. A second man comes towards them and Clarke quickly comes to her senses, scourging through the bag until her hands connect with the cool metal. She clicks the safety and fires the gun into the air, startling the men.

 _“Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op.”_ Clarke shouts after them, aiming the weapon at the two who reluctantly release their grip on the brunette.

“Get away from her.” She places her finger on the trigger. It’s a warning and they step back.

“Now.” Clarke spits. “ _Gonot!_ Get out of here!” She growls. The men grumble in annoyance, resheathing their knives and scurrying off.

“You speak _Trigedasleng_?”  The grounder’s eyes widen, impressed. “ _Machof_.”

Clarke nods solemnly. 

“Did she teach you?” Lexa asks carefully.

“Something like that.” Clarke sighs.

 _She may not have taught me the grounder language, but she taught me a hell of a lot more_. Clarke thinks to herself. The push and pull of the universe was really taking a toll on her emotions.

The brunette responds sympathetically with compassionate green eyes. They’re searching hers for something and Clarke feels completely overwhelmed. That was too close. She could have lost her. Again. She flings her arms around the brunette, holding her tightly.

“You have quite impeccable timing, Clarke kom Skaikru.” Lexa whispers her thanks into the blonde’s hair. She runs a comforting hand up and down Clarke’s spine, feeling her quiver beneath her touch. She freezes, withdrawing herself from the blonde’s personal space.

“I’m sorry.” She apologies.

“Don’t be.” The blonde swallows. She wants to say it. She really does. And she sees it. Just for a second. It’s small, but it’s there. She sees the Lexa she once knew. She sees genuine love.

“I am indebted you.” Lexa states.

“You owe me nothing.” Clarke assures. “We’re equals.”

“But, you’re the one who saved me.” The brunette give frowns.

“You’re the one worth protecting.” Clarke objects and the girl’s lips immediately curl the opposite direction, cheek tinting slightly a shade more pink.

_You’re the one._

The two seem to get lost in one another; blue sapphire swirling into crystalline jade as they completely melting into one another. It’s not until Lexa starts to pale that they realize it: the spot of red across the girl’s stomach.

_Not again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when they were making progress, right?!


	16. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She won't accept it. Or will she?  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way Lexa's original injury should have been handled. (It's short, but it's a set up for something else.)

Lexa pulls away when she realizes that she has started to bleed, eyes falling down to the red stain that had been left behind on Clarke’s shirt as her own dress also pools red. Clarke can feel her pulse in her ears as she slowly becomes conscious of what had happened.

Aside from the tensing of her jaw as she presses a hand against her stomach, she barely even flinches at the pain.

“Lexa?” Clarke croaks, anxiety building in her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that when they open, the stain will be gone.

“Hey.” Lexa says softly, her voice willing Clarke to open her eyes. They flutter open slowly and she can see the earnest concern in the green eyes in front of her.

“It doesn’t hurt.” The grounder insists. “I’ll be okay.” She consoles.

Clarke swallows, eyes brimming with nervous tears. She knows Lexa’s lying. _This life will be her last._ Ontari's words haunt her.

“Are _you_ alright?” The brunette takes a step forward, noticing the way the blonde is trembling. The movement causes another swell of red to gush out of her wound and Clarke struggles to remain calm, despite the girl’s assurance. “Clarke?” She asks again, her voice timid as she barely clicks out the “k.”

“I’m fine.” The blonde brushes off, turning her attention back to the issue at hand. “You’re the one who’s bleeding. At least let me wrap that up.” The blonde pleads, riffling through the supply bag for the extra shirt Octavia had provided. She tears the cloth with trembling hands; ready to wrap the fabric tightly against Lexa’s wound.

The brunette lifts her shirt slightly and allows Clarke to proceed. The blonde takes that moment to do a quick investigation of the gash against her exposed skin. The cut is deep, but the grounder is right. She’ll be fine, but she may need stitches.

After a shaky attempt at bandaging her wound, Clarke finally settles her nerves enough to steer them back to Arkadia, urging the Lexa to lean her weight against Clarke’s form. But the brunette remains as stoic as possible, body stiff and resistant atop the horse. It’s not until the blonde pulls her back to her with a hand on her hip, careful to keep her fingers away from the wrapped gash.

“I’m sorry for ruining your shirt.” The grounder apologies, breaking the sound of Clarke’s heart pumping in her ears.

Clarke shakes her head, because Lexa is _still_ so selfless, even when wounded.

“It’s okay. Let me take care of _you_ for once.” The skygirl emphasizes, still worried for the girl.

The brunette nods carefully, resting the most miniscule amount of her weight against the blonde’s chest. Clarke knows she’s still trying to be courteous and strong. Typical grounder mentality, Clarke notes.

Luckily they aren’t far from the sky settlement and she thanks every possible higher being that Lexa hasn’t lost consciousness or been injured any worse.

They dismount carefully, Clarke taking the girl by her arm to gently coax her in the right direction, similar to the way she had when they were attacked by the pauna.

“Let me.” She contends, sensing the brunette’s hesitance. Clarke leads them through the gates and towards the medical bay. She senses the eyes of others around them watching with restrained curiosity, but she tries not to let them sway her from her destination.

“They are staring at me.” The grounder leans closer, eyes guarded and she forces herself to stand straighter, shifting out of Clarke’s grasp.

“Ignore it.” Clarke encourages, continuing, noting the girl’s wounded pride.

“Don’t they trust the grounders? You are the 13th Clan.” Lexa points out.

“That’s not quite it.” Clarke shakes her head. _You made is the 13 th clan, you just don’t know it._ She pulls the girl into the medical building, both thankful and worried that Lexa is too distracted by her wound to continue the conversation.

The pair enter to find that the halls are relatively empty and the clamber of their footsteps echo off the titanium walls until they come to her mother’s office.

She knocks frantically, and the doors swings open. Abby’s eyes widen.

“Lexa?” The doctor gasps, staring dumbstruck at the girl who remains at her daughter’s side, hand still clasped over her stomach. She shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other under the woman’s awestruck gaze.

“She needs stitches.” Clarke presses urgently, snapping the doctor out of her stupor. “Now.” She stresses before her mother has time to ask any questions. “I’ll explain later.” She whispers careful not to let Lexa overhear her.

“This way.” Abby nods, finally coming to her senses. “We need to clean the wound first.” She gestures stiffly to the examination table and the grounder hoists herself up without assistance, clenching her teeth as she repositions herself. Clarke can see the slightest protrusion of the vein in the brunette’s neck as she bears the pain. Her pupils are dilated as well, but the blonde thinks that’s more to do with her being in an unfamiliar environment and not so much with the injury itself.  

She presses lightly against Lexa’s shoulder, signaling for her to lie on back. When she does, Clarke lets her hand linger for the moment, her thumb brushing against the girl’s collarbone comfortingly. She feels Lexa’s muscles relax and Clarke holds her gaze offering a reassuring smile.

“Don’t be afraid.” She whispers to the brunette, just as she had done for her many months ago.

They undo the ties of cloth, peeling back the soaked fabric from where it was now clinging to the brunette’s frame. Clarke notes the faint outline of muscle and a dark blemish on her upper stomach. Once the blood had been wiped away, gauze placed strategically around the opening, the blonde is able to get a clearer view of the dark mark. It’s right where she remembers it. The same location that Clarke had fixed her eyes to, frozen in their last moments together.

But instead of a bullet hole, she sees a dark patch of healed skin that looks almost like a birthmark, the coloring most likely due to the healing process of the more inferior medicinal practices used by the grounders. The brunette blushes on the medical table, feeling the piercing gaze of the blonde transfixed on her stomach.

“I have this horrendous scar…” She begins to apologize.

“It’s beautiful.” Clarke cuts off. It may be horrible and carry an ugly memory, but it’s what shaped her.

In that moment, Clarke realizes that it doesn’t really matter that Lexa doesn’t remember them. Because Clarke remembers enough for the both of them. And that’s enough because she still _has_ Lexa. Here. Present. _Alive_. And she still has this second chance with no obligations to do anything else, without having to owe anything to either of their people.

This scar marked the point when the universe gave life to Lexa. _This_ Lexa that was still hers. Because Lexa was always hers to keep, as a memory or more. That wasn’t important now. All that mattered was that there was hope. A promise. A someday. And if the brunette wanted it, Clarke offer herself to be hers to have.

The blonde realizes that the pain they endured was what   _freed_ Lexa. It gave birth the purest version of Lexa that Clarke gets to see and experience once again. One that learned to truly live, not just survive. A Lexa that was unrestricted by duty, honor, and sacrifice. And despite the anguish that Clarke had felt for those many months, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful for the second chance to do things over again; to properly save her even if she couldn’t completely save _them._ She would rather have Lexa here than not at all.

Clarke watches as the doctor tends to the grounder. Her mother works swiftly and carefully, sticking a needle into the girl’s abdomen to produce a sense of numbness. The grounder watches her intently, seemingly fascinated by the Arkadian technology. She tilts her chin curiously as Abby begins with threading the stitches through her.

“You should probably stay here for a few days.” Abby notes when she’s done. She looks cautiously at her daughter who had spent the entire time lost in her own thoughts, hand tethered to the brunette the entire time, despite her ongoing silence. Clarke nods in agreement. Her eyes water and only then does Clarke realize that she had barely even blinked, eyes trained on keeping contact with the brunette’s in assurance.

Green eyes watch her carefully, her brows knit together with concern.

“We’ll give you a second to rest.” The blonde says kindly, offering up her bravest smile. “I have to talk to my mom.” She explains with forced confidence. “Reshop.” She stops herself before she finishes. There’s a flash of light behind the girl’s green eyes and she returns a small smile, obliging with a nod.

Clarke and her mother leave the room, closing the door behind them.

“How?” Her mother exclaims when they are finally alone. “I thought that…”

“I just found out a few weeks ago myself.” The blonde confesses. “That’s why I had to go see Ontari.”

Her mother looks astounded. “There was a transfusion involved and some other things. I don’t really know all the details. But that’s _Lexa_.” Clarke emphasizes. “She just doesn’t know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was an AI.” Clarke divulges. “Like a second version of A.L.I.E. but with good intentions. That’s how I knew about the City of Light. Because Ontari has… had” she corrects herself. “Had it. She used it to talk to Lexa. That’s how she told me that it needed to be destroyed, so we could get rid of A.L.I.E.”

Her mother tries to follow along, nodding as Clarke continues to explain until she has said all that she can, to the best of her abilities. The sun has set by now and the doctor looks at her watch.

“You should go to her.” Abby encourages. “She’ll probably be waking up, if she hasn’t already. It’ll be nice to see a friendly face.”

Clarke nods. Just as her feet cross the threshold of the doorway, her mother calls back to her.

“I was going to say that we should keep her in medical while she recovers. But maybe it would be best if she stayed with you.”

 _She never left._ Clarke thinks.

“Thanks.” The blonde finds her eyes tearing up betraying her emotions. She’s just so thankful and so relieved. It’s _overwhelming_.

“I’m going to talk to Marcus.” Abby gives her a gentle smile. “There are some things that I think need to be discussed. I figured I’d go an explain it so you can spend some time with her?”

Clarke nods appreciatively, finding her way back to Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been updating as frequently because I have been working on fun surprises for you all. 
> 
> You can buy Lexa's headpiece here: https://www.etsy.com/shop/heyjayyay  
> You can get stickers, prints, etc of my fanart here: http://www.redbubble.com/people/heyjayyay
> 
> AND I'm working on writing another Clexa AU fic and a Lexark fic. So be on the lookout for those!


	17. The Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke tries to send Lexa an important message and receives one back in return.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many feels.

When Clarke returns to the medical bay, the grounder is just starting to awaken. The blonde watches her from the doorway as Lexa inhales slowly, rolling her neck while simultaneously stretching her long, slender arms out in front of her. She peeks one eye open, letting out a huff when her pupils are met with an unpleasant amount of light.

Clarke can’t help but chuckle, a sense of endearment spreading through her. The noise causes the brunette to look over, seeking out the source of the sound. When she realizes Clarke is the one at the door, her eyes lighten and she flashes a bright smile in the blonde’s direction. It makes Clarke go weak in the knees.

“How are you feeling?” She stumbles, trying to compose herself as she approaches the girl’s bedside.

“Better.” Lexa affirms, sitting up carefully, taking caution not to unhook herself from the monitors she is connected to. “Thank you again for saving me.” She says gratefully.

“You saved me.” Clarke shakes her head. _Countless times._ She thinks to herself.  _Even now._

“You fired the gun.” Lexa objects with her own shake of her head.

“You fought for me.” Clarke reasons.

Lexa quirks a brow. “For _us_.” She corrects, her emerald eyes locking with the blonde’s.

Clarke’s heart stutters as she gets lost in them. The corner of girl’s mouth twitches and Clarke’s eyes immediately fall to her lips. She swallows hard, ripping her gaze away with great effort.

The brunette sighs, gazing around the room instead. She observes the equipment and various Arkadian technologies with curiosity, finally able to take in the highly complex machinery.

“Your people have very advanced tools available to them.” She notes with an approving nod. Her hand falls to her stomach and for a second and Clarke is worried that she may be feeling some sort of pain again, but the grounder simply pats the wrapping tenderly and she inhales slowly. Clarke watches as her pupils seem to distance, her gaze unfocused.

“Lexa?” She hesitates. “Is everything okay?”

The grounder turns finally acknowledging her words. She stares at Clarke, green eyes focused and searching. Clarke feels her stomach knot under her gaze.

“Lexa?” She barely breathes out. She can hear the brunette’s heart beat increasing on the monitor.

“Everything is okay.” She finally replies. Your technology is intriguing is all.” She says starkly. Clarke can’t help but feel a sense of relief and disappointment wash over her simultaneously.

“Do you want to see more of it?” She offers.

Lexa nods once.

“Stay here.” Clarke instructs. She goes to retrieve a second radio from her mother’s office, handing one over the grounder and taking the other from where she had stored it in her bag.

“We use these to communicate when we can’t be with each other.” She explains, pressing the small button. It crackles to life and the grounder jumps slightly, clearly not expecting the device to make such an atrocious sound. She blushes in embarrassment but Clarke simply gives her a soft expression.

“Guess I forgot to warn you.” She apologizes, blue eyes warm and comforting.

“It would have been beneficial.” Lexa quirks her brow with an impish smirk, conveying that she is forgiven and signals for Clarke to continue.

“So,” Clarke smiles back. “Like I said, you use these to send messages to each other. Press this button on the side to talk.” She demonstrates on her radio. It makes a clicking sound before she releases it. Lexa looks down at the walkie in her own lap, mimicking the action until her radio clicks as well. She looks up at Clarke inquisitively.

“And this is used to key into different frequencies.” Clarke reaches out to turn the knob on the grounder’s radio. Lexa’s hand follows and when their knuckles brush slightly, Clarke feels her cheeks tint as she pulls away, clearing her throat nervously.

“Different people are on different frequencies so you can talk to a lot of people at once if you want to.” She explains, trying to focus on the task of relaying the information to the girl.

“Here, watch.” She calibrates her radio to the same frequency wavelength as the device in the grounder’s hand, before holding it up to her mouth.

“Like this.” She speaks into the device clearly and the brunette beams down at her lap in awe.

“I can hear you, Clarke.” She says in wonderment.

“It gets better.” Clarke says. “Hold on.” She steps out of the doorway and walks down the hallway until she is about 30 feet away, but still visible to the brunette from the entry window of the medical bay.

She gives the brunette a wave and even from afar, Clarke can see the way her green eyes sparkle as they return their own greeting.

She holds the microphone to her lips, speaking clearly.

“Even when we’re this far apart, I can still talk to you.” Clarke explains walking further down the hall as she speaks. “Octavia and Lincoln probably use these to tell each other how much they miss each other when they’re out on scouting duty.” She jests.

She sees the brunette looking down at her device, fiddling with the radio before she holds it up to her own plump lips.

“Did you ever try to use this to talk to her?” Lexa asks innocently. “To tell her that you miss her too?”

Clarke freezes. She’s too far away now to read the grounder’s expression clearly, but her posture hasn’t changed.

She tenses, clenching her fingers around the “talk” button but the words are caught in her throat. She swallows the pause and after a moment of silence, she sees Lexa look up at her, tilting her head slightly.

“Clarke?” The brunette asks. It’s like a stifled whisper in the speaker and the blonde feels goose bumps spread across her skin at the delicate way the grounder says her name. “Are you there?”

“Y-yes.” She finally responds, her voice straining with effort to force out the single syllable. “I’m here.” She cracks. 

“Did she ever respond?” The grounder asks curiously. “Does she know you miss her?”

Clarke shakes her head, unable to answer the question and instead she speaks into the device in a broken rasp.

“I don’t think she misses me.” She finally says.

Lexa puts down the radio, shifting in the cot. And before Clarke can tell her not to, the brunette is swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Clarke rushes over, afraid the grounder may eject a needle out improperly or deactivate a monitoring device.

“Hey.” She urges. “Slow down.” She says to the brunette, and her own heart. “What’s wrong?” The monitor that the grounder is attached to is beeping rapidly again.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” Lexa manages to murmur.

“Are you hurt?” Clarke immediately panics, reaching for a new set of gauze to wrap the girl’s injury.

“No.” Lexa holds up a hand, stopping her in her steps. The both look at the girl’s raised fingers, a swarm of emotions crossing both of their faces. Lexa pauses, searching for the right words. “It feels as though something is missing.”

Clarke gulps desperately, trying to find a way to settle her nerves.

“I think…” She fumbles. “Maybe you need some more sleep.” She suggests, hoping that Lexa will buy her blatant lie. Or at least not try to question her. “That cot isn’t really comfortable.” She rambles. “I’ve slept on it before. A few days ago actually.”

Lexa furls her brows, highly confused by the blonde.

“Umm.” Clarke catches her breath. “How about if we move you to a more comfortable bed?” She manages to say.

Lexa only nods, allowing Clarke to detach her from the medical machinery. Clarke tries her best to ignore the way the spaces between each beep of the heart monitor shorten with every brush of their skin, every time Clarke leans closer.

When the brunette is finally free of the monitoring equipment and the needles, delicately removed from her veins, Clarke guides them through the bay towards her room.

On the way there, they pass by Raven who has a ridiculous amount of wires tangled around her arms, as she struggles to carry a box of batteries, isolators, and other assorted electrical components. All of which, she drops when the two walk by and she registers who she is standing next to.

“Lexa?” She gapes.

“Hello?” The brunette greets carefully. “Do I know you?” She asks.

Clarke makes a desperate pleading gesture for the mechanic not to say anything.

“Uhh.” Raven flicks her eyes back to her. “No.” She responds, reaching out her hand, ignoring the mess of tech gear around them. “I’m Raven.”

“Lexa.” The grounder grabs her forearm awkwardly.

“Raven is one of our mechanic techs.” Clarke blurts.

“The best one at that.” Raven tacks on, puffing out her chest proudly.

“Right.” The blonde agrees.

“I am very impressed with your technology.” Lexa compliments.

“You should be.” Raven grins, playfully.

“Raven has a big head sometimes.” Clarke glares teasingly.

“Big brain.” The Latina points to her head. “It’s gotta fit somewhere.”

Lexa looks back and forth between the two, watching their banter shyly. They exchange a few more jabs before Clarke notices just how tense the grounder seems, eyes on the ground.

Raven looks to follow her gaze. Lexa is nudging a 9 volt battery with the toe of her boot.

“Lexa?” Clarke asks, taking a step toward the brunette. She straightens, looking guiltily at the two. She bends to pick up the battery, handing it awkwardly over to the mechanic. Raven takes it with a mischievous smirk.

“Want to see something cool?” The mechanic offers. “Stick out your tongue.” She instructs.

Lexa hesitates and Clarke can tell by the twinkle in her eye that Raven is up to no good.

“Raven.” Clarke says with warning in her tone.

“Relax, Princess.” The mechanic winks. “It’s not going to hurt.”

The grounder pokes out her tongue slightly from between her lips.

“So there’s this thing called electricity.” The mechanic prefaces. “It’s how we get power to all of our tech.” She says before tapping the girl’s tongue with the end of the battery quickly. Lexa’s eyes widen and her tongue retracts instantly.

Clarke narrows her eyes as Lexa looks both startled and confused.

“Shocking, isn’t it?” She smirks and Clarke groans.

“Are you alright?” The blonde asks concerned, fingers taking the girl’s wrist. The grounder licks her lips and Clarke grip tightens around the brunette. Green eyes fall to where their skin has made contact and Clarke shuffles away.

Raven sneaks out a giggle, amused by the two.

“Come on, Lexa.” Clarke nudges the mechanic out of the way. “Raven is clearly very busy with her toys.” She rolls her eyes, trying to brush off the fact that her face was absolutely ablaze.

“Not toys.” The mechanic defends, gathering her parts back into the box.

“Get outta here.” She rolls her eyes, biting back a smile.

“You love me.” Raven teases, slinging the long strands of wire around her neck.

The blonde shakes her head, resolve crumbling and a small smile spreading over her lips. “I’ll see you later.” Clarke says.

“Alright.” The mechanic nods. “Nice to uhh, meet you, Lexa.” The brunette says. “It was kind of nice seeing you too, Clarke.” She teases, getting the last word.

The blonde gives her a glare. “Bye, _bird_. Fly away now.” She pouts. 

Raven chuckles as they part ways.

Once the brunette is out of earshot, Clarke sees Lexa looks hesitantly at her, opening her mouth before closing it, shutting it tight. It happens again and by the time they make it to Clarke’s bunk, she has caught Lexa watching her seven more times.

“What’s up?” Clarke asks.

The brunette shakes her head, dismissing her own curiosity.

“You can talk to me.” The blonde offers, closing the door behind her.  “It’s just us in here.” She sits on the bed, gesturing for the green-eyed girl to do the same. She hesitates before taking a place on the bed across from her.

Lexa chews the inside of her lip before she speaks again.

“Raven,” She begins. “Is she your…?” She pauses to let Clarke infer and finish the sentence for her.

“What?” She’s flabbergasted. “No! Oh my… you think Raven is. Wow. No. Not at all.” She shakes her head from side to side rapidly.

“You said I remind you of her.” Lexa says. “Raven and I have a similar build.” She observes. “The same hair color…”

“Lexa, no.” Clarke snorts. “You are nothing like her.”

The brunette’s face falls.

“No.” Clarke runs her fingers through her hair. “I meant that in a good way.” She consoles. “I meant you remind me of her personality-wise.” _Everything-wise_ her brain screams. “She was the greatest person. Radiant in every way.” Clarke says dreamily.

Lexa looks bashful, breaking their eye contact to focus on her hands in her lap.

“Anyway.” Clarke continues. “Raven is just a friend. A good friend. She understands me and we learn from each other. She helps me stay strong. Just like you and A…” She stops herself before Anya’s name slides from her lips and it comes out sounding more like _you and I._ Luckily Lexa doesn’t seem to react to the slip up.

She tries again. “Who are your friends?” Clarke asks carefully.

“I don’t really have any.” Lexa looks embarrassed.

 _You have me._ Clarke wants to say.

“What do you mean?” She asks instead. Surely the girl hadn’t been living alone all these months since _it_ had happened. “Who takes care of you?” The blonde probes.

“I do.” The brunette shrugs.

“Isn’t that tiring?” Clarke questions, scooting closer to the grounder, wanting to offer her a sense of support.

“One must do what is needed to survive.” Lexa sighs.

“Isn’t life about more than just surviving?” She can’t help herself. It just spills out.

The brunette locks eyes with the blonde, green orbs searching. Clarke feels like shrinking under the girl’s inquisitive gaze. Lexa’s pupils are dilated and there’s that flicker shining through. The blonde freezes when she sees it again.

“Always.” Lexa breathes and Clarke’s own breath hitches at how soft the brunette’s voice is.

“You should stay here.” Clarke says boldly, offering her heart on her sleeve. “I can take care of you.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I don’t want to impose on...”

“I want to.” Clarke cuts off. “Please.” She begs, blue eyes vulnerable.

Lexa’s eyes fall to rest their gaze on Clarke’s lips and she her throat bobs. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's liking the slow burn? Too slow? Too fast? How do you feel about mildly-suspicious-Lexa and slowly-opening-up-Clarke?


	18. The Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's vow to protect Lexa is put to the test.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Wild Horses by Natasha Bedingfield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I didn't want the story to go in this direction, but after reading the comments, I felt like I had to. I just wanted to write fluff, damn it. But here we are... *Cries* Don't hate me!

Clarke releases a sigh of relief and the grounder gives her a gentle look, green eyes transfixed on hers as a flame fleetingly dances behind them.

  
“You have also had a long day.” She acknowledges. “Would you like to rest as well?” She suggests politely, standing from the bed to move to the free bunk on the other side of the room.

“No.” Clarke says stubbornly.  “I’m fine. I just need to take a walk to clear my head.” She says. “You sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat.”

The grounder turns and stares at her with an unreadable expression and the blonde suddenly feels somewhat exposed sitting on her small bed with the brunette standing a few feet away, eyes cast downward as she studies Clarke’s expression. But soon enough, the girl’s poker face is gone and replaced with a hesitantly accepting nod.

Once the brunette is settled into cozy bed, Clarke leaves, door closing carefully behind her. She leans her back against cool metal, letting the solid surface support her weight as she recomposes herself, taking a few shaky breaths as her cheeks start to cool back down to their normal temperature.

Clarke spends the next half hour in Raven’s shop, watching the mechanic quietly tinkering with her components, a tension hanging over the two.

The mechanic breaks the silence with a groan, her chair squeaking as she throws her head back. “Are we just going to pretend you aren’t walking around hiding a resurrected corpse as a fugitive in the Ark or…?” She finally says, putting down her tools to focus her attention on the blonde.

“She’s not a corpse.” Clarke retorts dumbly, heel of her boot clinking against the foot of the metal leg of the stool she’s sitting on. “She’s alive.” She says, as if it wasn’t already obvious. “Lexa is still alive.” She repeats. _Very much so._ The blonde reminds herself.

“Clearly.” The Latina rolls her eyes. “But _how?_ Everybody said she died. That’s how Ontari became commander in the first place. _”_ She asks, clearly stumped.

“Transfusion.” Clarke explains for the second time that day. “But she doesn’t remember anything. That’s why Ontari is still in the position she’s in.” She says again, the reality not hurting any less as she has to admit to the truth.

“The grounders performed some kind of healing ritual and removed Lexa’s memories in the process and passed them on to Ontari, except now Ontari doesn’t have them either because we destroyed them all in the City of Light.” Clarke says vaguely. She can tell by the girl’s expression that she wants to know more, but Raven, understanding of the blonde’s emotions, doesn’t push it. And Clarke is thankful.

She didn’t want to go into the details about the actual process. How said ritual actually consisted of her crying over her lover’s limp body, tasting salty tears as her lips pressed against Lexa’s cold, lifeless mouth. The flame being cut away and all warmth Clarke had ever felt and needed, dying along with it. And every last hope of _her_ Lexa.

“Okay.” Raven accepts with an apprehensive nod. “So she’s here now, for how long?”

“Until she’s better.” Clarke answers simply.

“And that’s _okay_?” The brunette asks. What she really means is, _aren’t you toying with death?_

“It has to be.” Clark says. “I need it to be.” She pleads with the universe. _I can’t lose her again._

“You can’t just keep her as a prisoner here.” The mechanic says, unaware of the irony of her words. Clarke shakes her head, reasoning it the same way Lexa had done when she captured the blonde and had her taken to Polis.

“If it will keep her safe...” Clarke defends.

“But she doesn’t _know_ you, or any of her past. You think she’ll be okay with this?” Raven points out.

“She has to be.” Clarke raises her voice in desperation. But the brunette does have a point, Clarke knows it. She knows that Raven is just being realistic and based on Lexa’s reaction to something as simple as a nine volt battery, and the rest of the Ark’s technology, Arkadia really was out of her realm.

“This place is completely foreign to her. All she knows is grounder culture.” The brunette reads her mind. “She has a whole other life. Look, Clarke, I’m not trying to be a downer. I’m glad you get a second chance with her, but I’m just worried for you. What if someone else finds out that she’s here? How does this effect Ontari? The rest of the clans? This is risky and you know it.”

“It’s just for a few days.” She tries to bargain. “Three. Maybe five.” She tacks on to give it at least some sort of nominal value, as though it will help to mitigate the girl’s concerns. But God, she wants a _lifetime_. The one they didn’t get to have.

“Do you think that’s enough time?” _For her to fall in love with you again._ Raven doesn’t say it, but the words are etched into the way her brows knit together, mildly creating a riff across her forehead.

Clarke bites her lip. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.” _Someday._ Her voice betrays her, cracking as she speaks. “I hope so.”

The Latina spins fully in her chair, sympathy in her brown orbs. “Hey, we can get through this. We’re the 100. We fight and we survive.” She encourages. “Speaking of, I’m sure the others would love to see you.” _We miss you._ Her eyes say.

The blonde is hesitant. She had just started to reopen up to the group of friends one by one. But the brunette is looking at her expectantly.

“Alright.” She obliges. “I’m going to wake Lexa in a bit to eat. I’ll meet you there shortly.”

The Latina nods and they agree to meet in the dining hall.

When Clarke returns, the grounder is sleeping soundly. Clarke feels her heart beat flutter at the sight of Lexa, so placid, so pure and untainted by the burden of leading an entire Coalition.

She thinks back to her unfinished drawing of the girl, when she was still _Heda_ , still so weighed down by her responsibilities, constantly worried for her safety, and even more for Clarke’s. This selfless girl was willing to jeopardize years of tradition for one person. A _no one,_ and yet she looked at Clarke like she was _everything._

And Clarke had done what she did best, built up walls. Looking back, she couldn’t help but hate herself for wasting so much time. _Time._ Something that she should have known they, in the positions they were in, were never guaranteed much of, if at all. She berates herself for all of the times she pushed Lexa away when she should have pulled the Commander to her, pressing their lips together.

Oh how she wished for more. Her heart yearned for it.

The brunette shifts, mumbling in her sleep. It’s indistinguishable, but it distracts Clarke enough from her thoughts and she melts just a bit more with adoration as she observes the sleeping girl. But then the brunette’s breathing starts to pick up, the mumbling becoming more desperate, and Clarke knows exactly what’s coming. She springs to action setting herself beside the girl on the bed, running soothing fingers through the Lexa’s brown curls. 

The girl whimpers, grasping at the sheets.

“Shh.” Clarke coos. “You’re okay.”

Lexa wakes from her nightmare, startled and panting as she looks around desperately. Her eyes finally grasp a sense of familiarity, clinging on to a blue sea of comfort.

“You’re safe.” Clarke assures. “You woke up just as I was about to get you for dinner.” She notes.

Lexa blinks a few times before responding. “Good timing.” The brunette finally jokes with a forced smile.

“Not really.” Clarke huffs, her eyes understanding, but the words carry much more weight that she wants them to. The brunette still picks up on it, always tuned into Clarke’s emotions.

“I know.” Lexa frowns sadly.

“Was it a bad?” Clarke asks, referring to the nightmare.

Lexa simply swallows.

“I have a candle.” Clarke consoles, retrieving the wax from her desk drawer. “Do you want me to light it?” She asks carefully. The brunette shakes her head.

“Okay.” The blonde places it next to the bed, settling back down next to the grounder who shifts closer, in need of a sense of security, which Clarke willingly supplies her with. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was being chased.” She says, eyes clouded. “They were shouting and making threats of war and rebellion.” The grounder says slowly. “They kept talking about death and _Heda.”_ She says. “I don’t understand why, but I feel as though I need to protect our leader.”

“Do you know who the commander is?” Clarke asks, stunned.

“Ontari of Azgeda.” Lexa nods.

“And before her?” Clarke asks, palms sweaty. She hopes, prays that maybe something about the dream would have triggered a memory, a small inkling of any trace of her past, but Lexa just shakes her head.

“The people in my village do not talk about the previous commander and refuse to tell me when I ask. They must have been a horrible ruler.” The grounder notes.

Clarke has to force herself to keep a straight face because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Let’s get something to eat.” The blonde diverts and Lexa nods in agreement as her stomach growls simultaneously. Her lips tilt to the left, as she blushes bashfully and Clarke holds out a hand to the grounder, pulling her up.

“Come on.” She says with a chuckle, “Before your stomach decides to join the conversation as well.”

Clarke leads the pair to the neighboring building where the station had been converted into a large cafeteria. The grounder eyes the foods with a sense of curiosity, following Clarke’s lead in taking a simple array of meats, berries, and fresh fruit on her plate, as opposed to some of the more finely seasoned, complicated dishes.

She takes her tray to scout the room, finally resting her eyes on broad shoulders and shaggy hair, a small boy with raven hair, and a Raven. There are three seats left at the table, two beside one another and one across, all at the end of the table. She hesitates, finally pulling Lexa to sit next to her on the end, while she placed herself as a barrier between the girl and her friends.

Soon, Harper joins, as well as Miller and his boyfriend, Brian, who simply pulls up a set of chairs to the end of the table. They all stare somewhat dumbfounded at the grounder, dressed in recluse attire, clearly out of place.

Clarke watches them nervously, as the grounder lifts her chin, trying not to be effected by their blatant staring, grateful when Raven starts flicking peas at each of them.

“Eat your food.” The mechanic scolds.

Harper shoves an unfathomable amount of rice into her mouth while Bellamy suddenly finds the carrots on his plate absolutely captivating. The two boyfriends strike up hushed exchange between themselves leaving Clarke, Raven, Monty, and Lexa to converse together.

“So, Lexa” Monty is the first to pipe in. “How do you like Arkadia so far?” He asks politely.

The grounder chews carefully, swallowing the food in her mouth before answering. “The Skaikru camp is full of very impressive, beautiful things.” Lexa smiles, though her eyes are focused on Clarke and the blonde gets lost in the way her pupils seem to flicker with warmth.

He agrees happily, unaware of the two sharing a moment.

“Absolutely.” He chirps. “I can show you some of the tech we use to grow the berries you’re eating.” He offers. “It’d be an honor to show the great com…”  He yelps as Raven kicks him from under the table, shooting him a piercing glare. He looks both confused and hurt, but the Latina takes over the conversation before any more damage can be done.

“Lexa,” She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. “You don’t need to listen to that boring stuff.” She smiles playfully. “I can show you much more electrifying things.” She smirks and the grounder purses her lips.

“I don’t know if I should trust that electricity you have.” Lexa says with skepticism.

The mechanic laughs shooting Clarke a look of approval and amusement. “Smart girl. She catches on quick.” She teases.

The lively exchange quickly becomes tainted when three grounders storm the hall and Clarke’s spine straightens as her mind starts to panic. Her first instinct is to grab Lexa and run, but the three have already spotted them and were rapidly approaching, steps broad and driven.

“We have a message from the Commander.” Indra says stiffly, standing tall as she faces Clarke. Her eyes flitting to the brunette for a split second, but her expression remains unwavered. If she had a tell, Clarke couldn’t find it. Lexa is studying her intently and Clarke feels nauseated, pushing her food away to approach the three.

“What is it?” Clarke asks, voice hushed as she feels more and more pairs of eyes from around the dining hall center in on her and the group.

“The next meeting of the 13 clans will be hosted in Polis in two days.” The lieutenant says. “An ambassador from each clan must attend.”

“Why can’t Kane go?” The blonde asks, gaging Lexa’s reaction from her peripherals.

“Because Ontari has specifically requested _Wanheda’s_ presence. She needs you to go there earlier.” Indra emphasizes and Clarke can see Lexa stiffen from the corner of her eye at the mention of the plagued name.

“You couldn’t radio this?” She glowers now acutely aware of the way Lexa seems to be watching her with a mix of apprehension and caution.

“Octavia said there was someone else I needed to see. She was right.” Indra whispers. For a moment, the woman’s eyes soften, a sad yearning filling them as they settle on Lexa. “I have already seen her and all is well.” She straightens. “I am also here to escort you, as Lincoln and Octavia are assigned to scout for supply in the upcoming days.”

“Okay.” She gives. “Just let me get…”

“Now.” Indra cuts off, tearing her eyes from the former commander. “We must leave now.” She presses.

Alarm flashes across Lexa’s features.

“I’ll be back.” She address to the brunette whose green eyes are turbulent. “Just relax and take it easy for the next two days.”

Lexa gives a small tilt of her chin.

Clarke then leans over to the Latina at her side. “Take care of her.” She whispers so only Raven can hear. “Please. She’s all I have.”

\---  
  
They dash off to the capital, just time to find the Commander in the council room, pacing furiously. Titus is also present, as he watches with his head in his hand, rubbing his temples with his fingers in frustration.

“Commander?” Clarke takes a step forward. She had never seen the Commander, or any commander, so frenzied. Even when conflicted, they had always had an aura of control about them. But now, without the flame, it seemed that the Ice Nation girl was reverting back to her formal, impulsive, fiery self.

“Clarke.” She says, clearly distraught.

“What’s happening?” Clarke looks between the two Ice Nation leaders.

“Ontari’s position is being threatened.” Titus fills in for her. “The clan leaders do not feel that Ontari deserves to be the Commander anymore because she no longer holds any power from the flame.” The Flamekeeper explains. “She’s going to have to defend her right to be commander or risk being challenged and killed.”

The brunette groans, still pacing. “Leave.” She barks at the Flamekeeper, mainly out of frustration. Titus grumbles as he bows in dismissal, departing the room to allow the two girls some privacy.

“Who’s challenging you?” Clarke asks, attention back on the leader.

“Everyone.” Ontari frowns. “They want me overthrown.”

“But you’re still here.” Clarke objects, noting that the throne is still in place and the grounder is very much intact.

“Until the meeting tomorrow.” The brunette grumbles in defeat.  “The council knows about the City. We have broken tradition, _decades_ of tradition…” She trails off.

“Ontari?” Clarke prompts, watching the girl grow more distant.

“If I don’t surrender the throne, I will surely be killed. They will rebel and the uprising will be my demise.” The grounder says gravely.

“We can fix this.” Clarke insists. “Maybe I…”

“You need to vote against me.” Ontari interrupts. “The vote to overthrow me _must_ be unanimous.”

“I…” Clarke doesn’t know how to respond.

“They know Lexa is alive.” The brunette suddenly blurts and the severity of the statement causes Clarke’s mouth to go numb.

“What? How?” She finally asks, nerves overcoming her as her body is visibly shaking.

“She was seen by scouts in the woods with _you_.” The grounder leader explains, using Lexa’s safety as leverage to get Clarke to abide by her request. “The clan leaders are going to hold her responsible for this.” The brunette divulges.                                     

“That’s not fair.” Clarke defies. “She doesn’t remember anything.”

Ontari nods in agreement but continues speaking.

“Lexa _and_ you. You’re both in danger.” The commander heeds. “We are all being held responsible. You _must_ vote against me or I will be killed.” She says with conviction, but her brown eyes are more so just desperately pleading.

“Won’t surrendering the throne be seen as weakness?” Clarke points out.

“I never asked for this.” The brunette shakes her head. The words hit hard and Clarke can only offer an understanding glance.

“To be stolen from my family and serve a tyrant queen was never my wish.” The girl divulges. “I competed in the Conclave because I felt that I was indebted to my queen, but Roan has assured me that I am not. And should I return to my people, I will be under his protection.”  

It takes a moment for Clarke to realize that this must be what Lexa had been feeling her entire life. She tries to imagine a young, pure Lexa carrying such a weight for the years of her rein and all the years leading up to it, training under Anya, called away from her family and Costia. Except Lexa didn’t have someone to protect her like Ontari did. _Until now._ Regardless, Clarke’s heart aches for the past leaders and the current one.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke offers weakly. It’s not much, but the words are genuine. Ontari forces a strained smile and grips at her sword, breaking their gaze. Her features soften for a moment as her eyes glaze over. It’s harder to notice amongst the scarification on the girl, but the crease in her brow is evident, the pain in her eyes, apparent. Clarke knows she’s probably having some sort of flashback and she waits quietly until the commander gathers herself.

She takes a few deep breaths before speaking again.

“I am proposing a new competition for the title of _Heda._ ” The brunette finally explains. “Now that the flame does not determine the Commander’s successor, the position will be held open to whomever through a unanimous vote. One representative from each clan should be allowed to run. Titus will make the final decision and to keep things fair, no ambassador may participate. I must inform the clan leaders of what happened, including disclosing that you were involved in the City. If you value your life, you will leave immediately after the meeting.”

“What about Lexa?” Clarke inquires. She values _Lexa’s_ life more than her own.

“She is not safe either. I am told you were spotted by rouge bandits in the woods. If word passes that the previous _Heda_ is still alive, some may try to harm her,” The grounder cautions. “They may have already.”

“Someone was tracking us?” Clarke asks, wide eyed. The brunette shrugs, unsure.

“You need to stay hidden, at least until after the competition.” Ontari warns.

The blonde swallows because honestly, there’s not much else she can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I hit a roadblock trying to write the story in a new direction to satisfy your comments. And then I was traveling all weekend so I didn't get to write until now. I hope you're all still alive/willing to keep reading.


	19. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa get into all sorts of fights. But in the end, forgiveness and second chances are all they need.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a long one. I initially planned on making it 2 different ones, but ended up combining them. I hope you enjoy!

It takes Clarke far too long to fall asleep that evening, and even then, she wakes before the dawn, eyes groggy and heart pounding. She’s beyond nervous and after unwrapping herself from where she had burrowed into the furs of her bed, clinging to old memories, it still takes all of her willpower to muster up the strength to extract herself from her thoughts and attend the meeting. Her entire being is filled with an overbearing sense of dread, suffocating her lungs.

Ontari had warned that they would all need to go into hiding until after the meeting, but Clarke had been more concerned with Lexa’s safety. Lexa, who was still back in Arkadia, completely unaware that she was currently in danger. She could only hope that Raven and the rest of the 100 where keeping the grounder safe from disparaging eyes and other foreign threats.

Clarke is the last to arrive in the council room, despite being the first to actually arrive at the capital. When she does, all eyes are on her and Clarke gets hit with a sense of de ja vu, feeling smaller and smaller with each step she takes toward the last empty chair by Roan, to the right of the Commander’s throne. Ontari quickly glances at her, brown eyes full of turbulence, but the moment passes in an instant, and the grounder stands just a bit straighter.

“Now that _Wanheda_ has arrived, let us begin.” She addresses the gathering in the most professional voice she can muster. “Greetings members of the Coalition.” She greets with a look of acknowledgement as brown orbs scan around the room, settling on Clarke last.

“As many as you have found, the City of Light no longer exists and the Flame has been destroyed.” She confesses, pausing to allow the words to sink in amongst the ambassadors. Clarke can tell that the girl is nervous by the way she clenches her fists behind her back, obscured from view of the majority of the clan leaders. But from where Clarke is sitting, she can see the tensing of her veins, her knuckles turning white. The Commander grits her teeth when she speaks again.

“I know many of you feel that I am unfit to lead this union of our nations because of this.” She surveys the room of various reactions to her confession. Her eyes meet commanding brown and her stomach drops knowing exactly what the leader is about to say next.

“The need to end the City was a decision made by _Heda_ Lexa, whose last wish was to bring peace to our people. I have fulfilled the request and lived up to my gifted title.” Ontari says. “Along with the assistance of _Skaikru_ and _Wanheda_ , the sacred land has been destroyed to allow our people to live and focus on the world we live in and this world _only_.” She decrees.

Clarke is met with a sea of glowering eyes and stark expressions. A rapid pounding starts to hammer against her ribs.

“It’s a conspiracy.” One ambassador shouts.

“She is dead! This is an outrage.” Another cries.

Clarke feels her stomach knot, her face struggling to remain impassive.

“She is not.” Ontari halts. “ _Heda_ Lexa has been living in solitude in the _Trikru_ village a few miles from Polis.”

The room buzzes with murmurs of shock and anger, all numbing Clarke’s ears.

“And should you find that _she_ would be a better leader than I, then propose it.” Ontari dares, reasserting her authority.

The leaders look conflicted and somewhat confused, as if the Commander is crazed.

“I will warn you that she has no recollection of her reign. The Commander Blood is gone. Her gift was fulfilled and she is simply _Leksa kom Trikru_.” The leader explains. “It would be to your benefit, and the benefit of our people, to choose another leader.” Ontari advises.

“And who would you choose?” A gruff man interjects. “The flame is gone! How do we know you won’t just pick another of your own?” He glares accusingly at Roan.

“I want only the best for our people,” Ontari continues, tightening her jaw. “I will not be making the final decision.” She says. “Titus will, with a competition. A test of three pillars; wisdom, strength, and compassion. The core values that every commander must hold.” She pronounces.

“They are principles that Titus understands. He knows best what is demanded of the Commander.” She tilts her head over her shoulder to acknowledge the advisor who until this point remained standing stoically by her side.

It seems to appease the challenger enough that he nods with a half-hearted grunt. At the same time, Titus steps forward, taking control of the council.

“Ontari of _Azgeda_ is willing to step down from her position of Commander, if the vote for her to do so is unanimous.” He declares. “Should it be as such, each of you will be allowed to choose one delegate from your clan to compete for the open position.”

“All those in favor of removing Ontari of _Azgeda_ from her position of _Heda_ , please stand.”

Almost instantly half of the clan ambassadors are on their feet, while the other half looks around amongst themselves before standing a bit more hesitantly to join them. The brunette looks at Clarke, brown orbs begging. The others seem to be watching her too. Clarke’s chest constricts knowing that the half that stood immediately are full of rage and anger, most likely wanting death to the Commander, Lexa, and herself. The other half probably want to know how _Wanheda,_ the conspirer, will react. Would she betray their leader to protect her own people? Or would she be insistent upon the Ice Nation native’s continued reign.

Clarke, biting her lip, reluctantly stands, earning a few somewhat shocked expressions in the process. For the best interest of all of their safety, she gives in, trying to convey a look of assurance in her blue eyes.

Ontari shoots her a small, yet grateful nod. “I will surrender the throne willingly, once the new Commander is chosen.” She declares. “You will have until this afternoon to choose your representative. No ambassadors may compete, so choose wisely. The competition will be held in a week’s time at the arena.” She declares. “That is all.”

As the meeting concludes, Clarke bolts without selecting a representative for _Skaikru_ , just as Ontari had advised her to do. Indra is waiting outside the room and gives her a subtle raise of a brow. Amongst the commotion, the blonde follows swiftly, hot on the warrior’s heels.

\---

The journey back to Arkadia is tense and quiet, both women focused on the shadows of the woods on the lookout for lurkers and other potential dangers. She needs to get back to Lexa. As long as people still think she’s _Trikru_ , being in Arkadia is safe. _She hopes._ As for herself, she wasn’t sure. But she was willing to offer her own life for the safety of Lexa’s. After all, the grounder had done the same for her countless times.

She sighs through her nose, stress pent up in her chest. She senses Indra’s eyes observing her but again, the woman says nothing, allowing the crack of branches and leaves under the horses’ hooves fill the silence. It isn’t until they are outside the gates of Arkadia, ready to part in their separate ways that the lieutenant speaks.

“Octavia.” Indra says gruffly.

“What about her?” Clarke raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Octavia should represent _Skaikru_ at the competition.” The _Trikru_ member offers as a solution. “She is strong.”

“She doesn’t consider herself one of us.” The blonde points out. “She’s been more of a grounder since she met Lincoln.”

“She is the link between the grounders and _Skaikru_.” The warrior objects. “She may be _Trikru_ to me and to you, but to the rest of the clans, she is still _Skaikru_.” Indra reasons.

“Octavia understands belonging and peace, but she is loyal to those that deserve it and cold to those that don’t.” Indra states. “As my second, I have trained her to fight for herself and stand tall in the face of danger. She is the only one worthy.”

Clarke nods because she does have a point. “I’ll ask. But I can’t make any promises that she’ll accept.”

Indra gives her a final nod holds her arm out for Clarke to grasp. She gives it a firm squeeze and is then back on her way, sword at her side as her horse gallops over the horizon.

The blonde tries to focus as she steps through the Arkadian gates, simply exhausted by the amount of weight and tension she now has to carry yet again. The only thing she wants is to find a forest of green to get lost in, but when she returns to her room, Lexa is nowhere to be found. In fact, her bed is made neatly and everything in the bunk is still intact. It’s as if she had never been there at all. Clarke frowns, hoping that the grounder is somewhere with Raven.

She tries the mechanic’s shop, peering in to find an abundance of wires and lose electronics across the worktable, bench pulled out slightly. But as with her room, the station is also empty. With a sigh, she ventures to the adjacent building, slipping around the back.

Maybe she had gone to the medical bay, Clarke reasons, considering the possibility that maybe her mother had taken the grounder in for a checkup to see how her stitches were healing. Her heart beats a bit harder when she sees a sleeping figure on one of the cots, but soon realizes it is just another patient. No sign of Lexa or her mother.

At this point, she is starting to panic. Lexa wouldn’t have gone back to the village, would she?

Clarke’s pulse accelerates as she tears through the Ark, searching frantically. Just as she’s about to run back to the small village, completely disregarding Ontari’s cautionary warnings to stay hidden, she hears a clang of metal swiping against metal. She looks out the window of the corridor she had been running through to see two grounders sparring and her blood boils.

She makes it a few feet toward the dueling two, before a tan hand wraps around her arm.

“Whoa there, Princess.” Raven chuckles, pulling her back. “You might not want to march into that without some protection.” The mechanic urges.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” The blonde freaks. “You were supposed to be keeping her safe!” She tugs her arm free with a huff, eyes narrowed in on the girl in front of her. She struggles for a moment to calm her breathing, adrenaline still pumping from her panicked search.

“What? Lexa’s fine.” The brunette brushes off nonchalantly. “Besides, she’s the one who offered to train with her.” Raven shrugs. “I know you’re worried about her, but she can handle herself. In fact, it’s O you should probably be worried for.” The Latina chuckles.

The clinking sound of the dueling swords stops and Clarke’s stomach drops. She clenches her fists, afraid of what she may see as she and Raven turn their attention to the fight.

Instead of finding the two in battle, Octavia’s hands are on her hips while Lexa is still in a fighting stance, waiting patiently for the warrior to return her attention back to her before she continues, not want to take advantage of her unguarded opponent.

“Hey!” Octavia interjects, overhearing them. “I’m doing just fine, right now!” She says haughtily. “In fact, I was just about to win this match.”

Clarke watches as a smirk creeps across Lexa’s face as she shakes her head. She knows that look. Before Octavia can prepare herself, the ex-commander kicks lightly at the back of the knee, hitting just the right spot and causing the warrior to unsuspectingly buckle under her own weight.

“Pride can be your greatest downfall.” Lexa lectures, holding out a hand to help the fallen brunette to her feet. “A battle is not won until it is _completely_ over.” She heeds as the smaller girl takes her hand, grumpily.

“You should remain focused until the end and always be mindful of your opponent. Stay one step ahead of them at all times.” Lexa advises.

Octavia grumbles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she brushes herself off and Raven bursts out laughing.

“See?” The mechanic pats the blonde on the shoulder, turning her attention back to Clarke for the moment. “ _Relax_. Lexa kicks ass. Just watch.” She urges, bringing them to sit on a set of stools a bit closer to the two, but far enough to stay away from the range of their swinging swords.

Clarke’s hands grip nervously at the rim of the chair beneath her every time the warrior takes a swing at the candle maker, but Lexa is swift in her response time and light on her feet. She knows Lexa can fight. She’s seen it before. But despite her skills, Clarke heart still lurches with every clang of metal, every sharp cut through the air deafening.

She can feel Raven watching her, aware of her overly protective behavior as she scoots her stool closer until she’s able to nudge her with her elbow. Clarke turns her head slowly, only tearing her eyes away from the two at the last second to make contact with the mechanic’s.

“Come on, Princess.” Raven apologizes. “I really don’t think you need to worry. She’s a still fighter at heart.” The mechanic notes, but Clarke can’t help but feel her stomach twist at the words. Because she may be a fighter and she may have been trained like every other grounder, but deep down, the Lexa that she knew, _her Lexa,_ was never a fighter. She was a lover. _Clarke’s lover._

“She’s…” Clarke wants to object, searching for the right words.

The _Heda_ had initially come across as harsh, cold, and callous, but the more Clarke had gotten to know her, the more she could see that the Commander and Lexa were two different people. The Commander was a fighter, but Lexa was not. Clarke could see it in the way Lexa smiled softly when they were shielded away in private settings; intimate moments she shared only with Clarke. It was the way she kissed; her lips so gently and carefully. It was in the tone of her voice; always so soft and loving.

The Commander was strict and thought with her head. Lexa thought with her heart.  She cared for her people: the citizens, her army, each and every ambassador. She cared for Clarke. She had a pure heart and good intentions, but sometimes, most times, her responsibilities prevented her from showing it.

 “She’s _good_.” She finally settles.

The Latina, unaware of the double-meaning simply nods in agreement, cupping her hands around her lips before giving a shout in the direction of the two fighters.

“Come on, Lexa!” She cheers. “Show your girl just how good you are!” She encourages.

Lexa pauses, blushing lightly and her cheeks match the pink of Clarke’s own porcelain complexion. The blonde gives her a glare while the mechanic smiles in feigned innocence. When she turns back to the two, Lexa is still watching her, green eyes boring into her and Clarke gets lost.

This time, Lexa gets distracted as well and the warrior-in-training, learning quickly from the ex-commander’s tactic, uses it to her advantage, shoving an elbow into the dumbstruck girl. It wasn’t a particularly rough action, but it hits too close to where her stitches had been and she winces slightly, gritting her teeth. She rubs at the spot and Clarke is up in a heartbeat, rushing towards her.

The blonde growls, violently tearing the sword from both of the girls’ hands, throwing the weapons on the ground.

“This ends now!” She shouts. Both girls take a step back, thrown off and dumbfounded by the complete change in temperament.

“What the hell are you thinking?” She reprimands. Octavia, unaware of the injury, simply shrugs. Lucky for her, Raven has fumbled her way to the two, slowed down initially due to her brace.

“We were just practicing.” Octavia defends, looking for some sort of support from the Latina. Raven gives her an apologetic glance.

“I think maybe you should be done practicing for the day.” Raven suggests, pulling her away to the give the two some space.

Clarke huffs, turning her attention to Lexa. “And you!” She takes a step closer, eyes brimming with tears. “You could have gotten hurt! I told you to take it easy!” She snaps. “What if you had pulled a stitch?” Her hands automatically find their way to the girl’s torso. Her body is radiating heat and Clarke lifts her shirt, running a careful hand over the girl’s abs.

The girl flinches at her touch and Clarke feels her eyes sting, tears threatening to spill over as she examines the wound. She wills them to focus for the moment and when she realizes no damage had been done, she lets out a breath and the dam bursts, tears tracking down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Clarke.” Lexa whispers, goose bumps rising on her skin where Clarke had skimmed her fingers across. “I will be more careful next time.” She reaches for Clarke’s hand but pauses, fingers twitching nervously before she drops her hand.

“There won’t _be_ a next time.” The blonde’s voice cracks as she relinquishes the fabric, wiping angrily at her face with a sniffle.

“I can take care of myself, Clarke.” Lexa tries to reason, carefully adjusting her shirt back into place. “All grounders are taught basic combat skills from a very young age.” She justifies.

“I know.” Clarke bites out.

“Then why are you so upset?” The brunette asks, eyes narrowed in on Clarke’s features. She feels herself being surrounded by a forest of green, her heart overwhelmed by the spectrum of emotions in the girl’s eyes. “Clarke?” She presses, swallowing under the blonde’s heavy gaze.

“Because I can’t let anything happen to you!” Clarke finally blurts as another round of tears falls from her eyes. 

“Clarke…” Lexa pauses, her eyes soft and compassionate. “I…” The grounder shifts closer but Clarke retreats.

“I can’t…” The blue-eyed girl hiccups, turning on her heels and fleeing the scene. She sees Raven and Octavia rushing towards her, but she brushes past them, stomping back to the Ark and into her room, slamming the titanium door behind her.

She flings herself down onto the bunk that Lexa had been sleeping in before she left, gripping the pillow like a vice as she inhales the girl’s scent. _Calming_ mint. _Sweet_ honey. _Pure_ Earth.

Clarke hadn’t meant to react so dramatically, but the news from Ontari weighing her down had already put a damper on her mood, the stress of finding a delegate only adding to her worry. The small flinch of Lexa’s expression when she took the jab simply pushed Clarke over the edge.

All she wanted was to feel free again, to feel loved again, to be Clarke and Lexa. Her tears fall faster until she can no longer cry anymore and instead is gasping for air, choking on dry sobs.

Her eyes soon grow heavy, lids struggling to stay open. She falls asleep dreaming, wishing, and yearning for the day…

Almost.

She is halfway to lucidity when a light knock on the door wakes her, pulling her back to reality again. She grunts, unwilling to open it for whoever may be outside, but there’s a click of the latch and her mother steps in.

“Raven told me it might be a good idea to check on you.” Abby says tenderly, sitting at the edge of the bed with her daughter.

“Are you alright?” She asks but when her eyes meet her daughter’s blue ones she shakes her head. “Silly question. Of course not.”

Clarke sighs, not bothering to hide her frustration.

“What can I do to help?” The doctor asks, brushing back a strand of blonde lock that had fallen over her daughter’s face while she slept.

“She doesn’t remember anything.” Clarke says flatly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Her mother gestures for her to flip over onto her stomach and she shifts closer, running her hand up and down Clarke’s back, nails scratching lightly. She hadn’t done this since Clarke was a little girl, but right now, without an answer, it was the only source of comfort she could really give. She hums a song from her childhood, softly, tempo slowed down to coincide with the pace of her hand as it danced along her spine.

When it finally ends, her mother gives her a soft squeeze.

“They’re going to hold a funeral for Jasper this afternoon at the drop ship.” Her mother says sadly. “To lay him with the others.” She acknowledges. “You don’t have to go if you don’t…”

“I’ll go.” She cuts off. Despite their rocky ending, he was still part of the original group that was sent to the ground together and she at least owed him that much.

“What time?” She asks.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Her mother simply says, placing a kiss on her forehead. She stands to leave, pausing at the doorway.  
  
“She’s with Raven right now.” Abby says over her shoulder. “By the fire pit.” She departs with the final words lingering in the back of Clarke’s mind.

_Whenever you’re ready._

She swallows, knowing her mother’s implications. She should go to apologize.

Clarke rolls from the bunk, straightening the sheets and readjusting the pillow of the grounder’s bed before she leaves.

She finds her just as her mother had said; Lexa talking to Raven quietly by the fire pit, their backs to her. She had since changed, borrowing some of the mechanic’s Arkadian attire, her signature red jacket now slung over the grounder’s shoulders. Clarke has to take a moment to calm herself. Lexa has never looked so breathtaking.

As she approaches, she can tell that they are leaning into one another, deep in conversation and unaware of Clarke’s appearance. She listens a few feet away to the two brunettes huddled together.

“Clarke cares about you, you know.” Raven says, eyes fixed on the flames dancing in front of them.

“I do.” Lexa nods.

“And how do you feel about that?” The mechanic asks curiously.

“I do not understand why she was so upset.” Lexa sighs. “As children, grounders are trained to fight as a very young age. I would think that she would trust me enough to know that I could handle a little sparring match.” She shrugs and Clarke can see that the grounder is toying nervously with the fabric of her shirt, head tilted down.

Clarke mentally kicks herself, feeling a pang of guilt for being so harsh and her jaw clenches. _I do trust you._

“She was just worried you’d get hurt.” Raven assures. “Her last…” She pauses hesitantly. “Uhh, her lover died because she was attacked off guard because of her.” She explains. “The same way you could have been.” She hesitates. “I think she blames herself.” Raven discloses.

“She is _Wanheda_.” Lexa breathes. “Commander of Death. “ She translates. “Such a weight to carry.” Lexa comments with a shake of her head.

“Yeah.” Raven nods in agreement. “It’s been hard on her. She’s rarely smiled.” The mechanic notes, her head bowed. “It’s getting better though. I think.”

“I do wish she would do so more often.” Lexa agrees. “She looks lovely when she smiles, but her eyes are still sad.” The grounder says, shyly, tilting her head bashfully.

“She just misses her.” Raven excuses.

“I can only imagine.” Lexa nods. The mechanic hums in response, thinking the same thing.

“You have seen loss too.” Lexa observes. She was always good at reading people.

“You’re perceptive.” Raven voices Clarke’s own thoughts, tossing a twig into the fire.

“It’s a cruel world.” The taller brunette states. “It is why you two understand each other so well. You use humor as a way to cope, sass as a way to divert, and intelligence as a way to fight.” She comments.

“I… yeah. Thanks.” Clarke kept stop herself from releasing a snort, because Raven is actually rendered speechless. She clasps her hand over her face, hoping the sound wouldn’t pull their attention to her.

“Uhh anyway…” The mechanic rubs her palms against her legs. “She cares about you.” She says again to the girl.

“And I am grateful.” Lexa says appreciatively. “Truly, I am. It’s just not something I am used to.”

“Yeah.” Raven gives a small smile, looking over her shoulder. “You should tell her that.” Clarke freezes when green eyes meet hers, lips parted slightly.

“I’ll see you later, Lexa.” The Latina hoists herself to stand, propping her bum leg up with her hands first. “Hey, Princess.” She gives Clarke a wink.

Clarke clears her throat, eyes falling to Lexa who was now looking up at her with innocent eyes.

“Hello, Clarke.” She respires, voice light and airy.

“Hi.” She swallows. “Do you mind?” She asks hesitantly.

The grounder gives a welcoming smile and pats the log, allowing Clarke to sit beside her. Lexa shifts slightly, granting her a physical space between them.

A silence falls over the two girls, and their eyes lock in on one another. Blue eyes search green for something to grasp onto. Lexa’s eyes are full of sadness and concern, brows furrowed slightly, and her lips pressed tightly together.

“I’m sorry.” They both say at the same time. Lexa lets out a nervous chuckle, frown slipping from her face. Clarke blushes and Lexa smirks.

“I did not mean to upset you, earlier.” Lexa confesses. “I didn’t know how much it would have affected you.”

_You have no idea what kind of effect you have on me._

“It’s okay.” She wills her voice to stay steady.

“It isn’t.” Lexa shakes her head. “It is not fair that I hurt you. I never intended to do so.” She expresses her regret, scooting closer to the girl, giving her a genuine look.

“I know.” Clarke croaks, allowing herself to shift into her as well. Their shoulders touch and Clarke instantly melts at the contact, a warmth spreading slowly through her.  

“I will try to be better.” Lexa promises.

“You’re already the best.” The blonde insists. “I just… overreacted.”

“Compassion should never have to be justified. You reacted based on your feelings.” Lexa says wisely. “Emotions are meant to be felt and the heart meant to be heard.”

“What does _your_ heart say?” Clarke asks shakily.

“That you are special, _Klarke kom Skaikru_.”  Lexa whispers tenderly. “And that you should be reminded of it more often.” The grounder says gently.

Clarke’s feels her heart skip, losing herself in the way Lexa is looking at her, flames illuminating the side of her face causing her skin to glow as they dance in the breeze. There’s a familiar tug in her chest, and for a moment she thinks that Lexa may be leaning in as well…

A loud honk causes them to jump back, and she has to stop herself from outwardly groaning. Her cheeks are searing and Lexa looks away shyly, biting her lower lip.

They turn their attention to the source of the commotion, finding Bellamy, Monty, Harper, and a few others climbing into the rover. Raven is in the front seat of the vehicle, waving her to join while Octavia and Lincoln are following them on horseback.

“I think there’s a slight possibility that you are needed.” The grounder recovers playfully.

“Come with me?” Clarke requests. “It’ll be safer in numbers.” She hopes that Lexa is willing to surround herself with a bunch of potentially strangers because Clarke can’t stand the idea of leaving her behind in Arkadia. Not after they had almost…

The brunette nods and they make their way over the group. She opens the backdoor for Lexa, allowing her to climb in first before following suit, sliding in next to her. They’re all fit snuggly in, and Clarke feels her body temperature rising. She knows it’s not just because of the sheer amount of bodies in the vehicle either. Lexa’s entire side is pressed to hers, shoulders and thighs touching. And it _almost_ felt as if Lexa was actually slanting into her.

The group attempts to make small talk, but the air is thick with tension, the body bag lying between them on the floor stripping them of any feeling of ease. Her whole body tenses, eyes transfixed on the way she can see Jasper’s head bob from side to side as they drive over each bump. Her stomach tumbles and she feels sick. Lexa move slightly, sensing her behavior. Her eyes are still focused straight ahead, but her hand subtly grazes against Clarke’s comfortingly.

Clarke clings to it, entwining her pinky around the grounder’s, unbeknownst to the rest of the group. It makes the ride a little more bearable.

\---

When they finally pull up to the drop ship, Clarke is the first to climb out of the rover, pupils dilated as she takes a series of deep breathes. Lexa approaches her carefully, allowing her time to recover.

Bellamy and Monty help unload the corpse while Lincoln, Miller, and Brian set off to dig the grave. Clarke’s heart constricts and she staggers slightly, feeling light-headed.

The actual funeral passes in a blur. Each member of the hundred singing their praises of the dorky, rambunctious, and downright ridiculous memories they have of the boy. No one dares to mention Maya or the last few months of his time on Earth. It’s somewhat superficial and Clarke feels sick. Monty goes last and his tribute is tearful and overwhelming. Even Lexa seems teary, her eyes sorrowful and sympathetic.

As they lower the body into the shallow grave, Clarke withdraws from the group, going into the drop ship to take a moment to herself. The sound of shoes quietly padding across the base of the structure takes her from her thoughts. She looks up to see a pair of tenderly inquiring eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just drops to ground before sitting cross legged across from the blonde whose knees are pulled to her chest as she hides in the corner.

It’s dark in the shadows, but Lexa’s eyes is are bright, reflecting off the smallest drop of sunlight available.

“Clarke.” She whispers, the “k” clicks delicately against her tongue. She waits until Clarke is ready to speak, her breath even and the blonde wishes for her own to match.

“I can’t save anyone.” Her eyes water. “Jasper is dead because I couldn’t save him.” She confesses. “I am _fucking_ _Wanheda_.” she scoffs at her own cursed nickname.

Lexa moves closer, raising her hand as if she’s about to place it on Clarke’s knee, but she hesitates, hovering.

“Are you scared of me?” Clarke says dryly. _Do you see me as a monster?_

“No.” Lexa response without hesitation, finally making contact with the fabric of the blonde’s pants. Her thumb caresses her knee tenderly.

“I would be.” Clarke grinds her teeth, biting back the swell of tears threatening to fall.

“While you only see darkness, I see a light in you. It’s bright, yet you constantly repress it.” Lexa comments.

Clarke snorts. _You are my light._ She thinks. The brunette takes her reaction as a sense of bitterness.

“Do you fear death?” Lexa tilts her head to the side.

“No. But everyone I love dies. I put them all in danger.” She grimaces. _Ontari. The 100. You._

“Her too?” The grounder asks, picking up on the remorse in her eyes.

She stays silent and Lexa takes the unanswered response as a yes.

“You do not fear death because you feel that you have nothing to live for?” Lexa gathers.

“That’s not it.” Clarke thinks. She does, but she’ll risk her life to protect her people, _always_.

“Death is not the end.” Lexa comforts. “You can continue to love someone and mourn them when passed. But to allow yourself to stop living as well, is a terrible way to carry on.” Her words resound in Clarke’s ears, just as she had said to her in the City of Light.

“I’m not carrying on.” The blonde rolls her eyes.

“You are just surviving.” Lexa nods. “Yet it was _you_ who insisted that we deserve more than that. You’re fighting with yourself to accept who you are.” She observes.

“You must let go of the past if you are going to live in the present. Why don’t you offer yourself that second chance?” The brunette asks.

She’s quiet again. 

“You carry a load greater than the rest. Do not let that define who you are, but strengthen who you can be.” She encourages. “You can…”

“Please.” Clarke says gruffly. “No more lessons.”

“I’m sorry.” The brunette apologizes, withdrawing her hand from where it had been resting on Clarke knee. She immediately feels colder.

“Me too.” Her voice crumbles.  A single tear betrays her and plops into her lap. Lexa reacts immediately, wiping the trail away from the blonde’s tainted cheek.

“Is she here?” She prods cautiously, referring to the row of graves outside courtyard of the drop ship.

“Sort of.” Clarke shrugs “She’s with me to an extent, probably.” _We keep fighting though._ Clarke thinks.

“Of course she is.” Lexa insists. “Love is the most powerful type of weapon.” She says.

Clarke sighs, eyes lingering at the doorway of the ship.

“You did not get to say a proper goodbye.” Lexa notes, following her gaze. “Now would be a good time to do so. Offer yourself that.” The grounder encourages, with that she departs to reunite with the others, leaving Clarke alone to think. She finally takes the girl’s advice, sending her final words to the boy in the ground. She looks out across the row of graves, yearning for all of those she had lost. But then her eyes fall to the one she found again. She allows herself a moment of hopefulness as she joins the others.  

_To those we have lost, and to those we shall soon find._

The rest of the evening is a somber one, the group eating together in the dining hall before heading off to bed, all emotionally exhausted from the day’s events.

Clarke settles into her bunk as Lexa does the same. She listens to the rustle of sheets until the girl stills, breathing out a sigh.

“You alright?” the blonde asks into the darkness.

“No.” She hears the brunette whisper, voice shaky.

“Does your wound hurt?” She sits up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed.

“No.” Lexa stares up at the ceiling. “That doesn’t hurt.”

“Then what is it?” Clarke inquires.

“There’s something that’s been bothering me ever since I arrived here.” Lexa confesses. She pushes up on her elbows, pausing for a moment as her eyes adjust, finding Clarke’s silhouette in the dark.

“Clarke,” She hesitates. “Why does everyone know who I was? My name.” She clarifies. “They all knew how to address me before I introduced myself.”

“Like I said,” Clarke tries to brush off. “You’re important.”

“Please.” Green eyes beg. “Be honest. I know I can’t be imagining it.”

“What makes you think that?” The blonde balances her voice.

“Because…” Lexa pauses. “I feel like I know you. Being around you feels familiar.” She confesses, now fully sitting up and there’s the slightest glimmer from across the room. Clarke knows exactly what those orbs are looking at. “Do I know you?” Lexa asks.

This time, Clarke gives in.

“I don’t know _this_ you.” She can’t lie. “Not yet.”

Lexa smiles. “What would you like to know?”

They stay up that night re-learning each other, but Clarke leaves out the most important detail; that she is inevitably, ridiculously, still so in love with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was by far my favorite chapter to write so far. Let me know what your favorite part was! 
> 
> Also, has anyone ever felt like they've fallen in love with an author just because of the way they write and the characters they develop? No? That's just me. Oh. Okay.
> 
> PS. Congrats to my giveaway winners, anddante and maitsau. Message me on tumblr to claim your prize!


	20. The Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being around Clarke and Arkadia starts to trigger some things.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: In My Veins by Andrew Belle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created a playlist for the fic. :) Make sure to check it out if you haven't already!  
> https://play.spotify.com/user/1232044112/playlist/13JFwOVWie1xyDOtWAAce6
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long to write a new chapter. I was really busy with Mother's Day stuff and then they showed my fanart on Talking Dead (Which means ADC has seen my artwork!) and I've just been in a crazy daze for the last few days. 
> 
> Then I got inspired to write a Lexark oneshot called "Damn Straight." That you should read if you love fluff and hints of smut.
> 
> And THEN I got inspired to write another fic called "Bend For Me" which features a hilarious modern day Clexa AU. 
> 
> And FINALLY I read a certain comment that made me kind of not want to write the rest of this because the commenter wasn't happy with the direction the fic was going so I got discouraged and I admit, I really shouldn't have let them get to me. But I did anyway.
> 
> Okay, so now I'm done ranting and making up excuses. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think!

“And that’s when I learned to always check the area first, before gathering truffles.” The grounder explained, voice raspy from exhaustion, but neither girl wanting to be the first to fall asleep.

Clarke fights slumber’s beckoning calls, eyelids heavy as she lets an airy chuckle leave her lips. It’s nice relearning Lexa and all the little things; her thoughts, her feelings, what few memories she may have left from before she was called to lead. Her stories are spotty at times, mainly when she tries to recall more recent events, so they are mostly simple or from her childhood, but Clarke clings to them, each a treasured part of the Lexa she loves and her past.

Sometimes they discuss surface level things: her favorite color, her favorite animal, even things she’d read in the past when she was still able to attend school. They’re the type of things that would normally be overlooked, but to the blonde, they’re the things that matter most. They’re real. _They’re Lexa._

Clarke lies on her back as she listens intently to each small tale, offering some of her own. She tries to avoid any obvious references to The Commander of the Blood, and keeps most of her stories to the first few years of her life, memories of a time when she was just a bit freer on the Ark: her mother and father, still together, before everything started to spiral.

Eventually, Clarke can no longer ward off the temptation of sleep and when she looks over, the silhouetted figure is still, a steady, gentle breath coming from where Lexa lay comfortably. She allows herself one last lingering glance at  the brunette, wishing it were light enough inside the metal room for her to see the peaceful expression on Lexa’s face. She lets her head sink into the pillow, closing her eyes. Behind her eyelids she still sees her, fully relaxed, slouching into the seat. Her head is leaning against the armrest of the couch, chest rising and falling slowly.

_Polis. Home. Lexa._

They are the final thoughts the blonde has before she finally drifts off to sleep.

The next morning, Clarke wakes first feeling just a little bit lighter. Having the ability to reconnect on a new level has brought her the smallest sense of relief. She looks over at the serene brunette, face dimly lit by the small amount of sunlight seeping through the walls of the titanium structure. She misses the feeling of the Earth and being connected to the ground, but having Lexa with her makes it more than bearable. _Home is where the heart is. My heart is with you._ She silently vows to the sleeping brunette.

She feels it before she sees it. Moments after her private acknowledgement, Lexa begins to stir mumbling her name. She carefully comes to the side of the girl’s bed, placing a hand on her arm, rubbing where she knows an intricate tribal tattoo hides just under the thin fabric of her shirt sleeve.

“Clarke.” Lexa gasps, head tilting from side to side in distress. “Clarke!” Her voice raises, tinged with urgency and fear.

“I’m here. Come back, Lexa.” She encourages. “Come back to me.” She pleads, words placing a sinking feeling in her stomach. She pushes through it, forcing her mind to focus on comforting the brunette who is still squirming, fists balled up as she mutters desperately.

“You were right, Clarke…” Her voice goes silent, body rigid as she falls back into her dream and Clarke’s breath hitches.

A moment later, her eyes flutter open and a pair of glassy green orbs latches on to stunning blue.

“What happened?” She asks carefully, removing her hand as the brunette sits up in the bed.

“I had a dream, a nightmare.” Lexa clarifies. “There was no gunshot sound, yet so many were still suffering.” She frowns, brows furled in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Clarke goads.

“I saw a burning village.” The grounder elaborates, her eyes darting as though she was still recalling the events in present time. “Thousands of my people were running, yet I was so far. I wanted to help them, but my body would not move. It was as though I was being restricted, or something was restraining me from saving them.” She says, clearly distraught.

_TonDC._

“Have you had these…” _realities_ Clarke wants to say. “visions before?” The blonde asks.

“No.” The brunette shakes her head. “I don’t understand where they came from. If they were from my past, I cannot believe I would not have gone back to help those in need.” She insists.

_Sometimes you must concede a battle to win a war._

“Maybe it was strategic.” Clarke offers half-heartedly.

“I could never abandon my people,” The grounder shakes her head. “Or any people.” She adds, eyes falling to the ground, clearly realizing where she is.

_I want your people to become my people._

So many memories replay in her mind, threatening to spill from her lips in the heat of the moment that Clarke makes the first move to cut the conversation off. “Let’s not talk about it right now. It’s in the past.”

“I suppose you are right.” The brunette nods.

“Let’s get something to eat.” The blonde offers, standing and holding out her hand for Lexa to take. Her slender fingers brush across Clarke’s knuckles as she grasps at it, and the blonde feels a spark ignite in her heart again. Forcing down the urge to pull her close, she leads them to the dining hall, reuniting with the group they had spent the previous evening with.

Clarke spends the first few minutes of breakfast simply staring at the girl. Lexa had recalled an entire event without being prompted at all about it. Maybe being in Arkadia, talking to Clarke at night, and being around the blonde was somehow jogging her memory, stimulating her stimulating repressed thoughts and feelings. Would it be possible to keep that going if they were to talk every night? If Clarke would drop hints about her past memories, would Lexa be able to recover them?

Bellamy nudges her for staring so long at the brunette. It’s obvious to the whole table, it seems, except for maybe Lexa, who is still puzzled by the Sky People’s use of utensils.

“So… You two look tired.” Raven notes.

“Rough night.” The blonde answers on behalf of them both.

“I can’t even recall when we finally fell asleep.” Lexa nods in agreement.

Raven snorts.

“We were just talking.” She defends, knowing exactly what the mechanic is insinuating.

 “Talking, huh?” Raven cocks a brow. “That’s what you’re calling it?” She smirks.

“I’m hungry.” Clarke rolls her eyes, focusing on her plate. From the corner of her eye, she sees Raven angle over the table, signaling for Lexa to lean in as well. She whispers something into the brunette’s ear and she nods obediently.

“Are you thirsty, Clarke?” Lexa asks and Raven can barely repress her devilish grin.

“I hate you.” The blonde grumbles, eliciting a laugh from the mechanic.

The joke completely goes over the grounder’s head as she offers, “I can get you a beverage.”

“No. It’s okay. Raven is just being an ass.” She glares at the girl who simply laughs even harder.

\---

After breakfast and a few more playful jabs from the mechanic, the two spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. It reminds her of old times in Polis, when things were just between the two of them and the walls of the capital kept them safe.

There’s a tiny voice in the blonde’s head that reminds her that she still has things to take care of, people to save, citizens to protect. But her main priority, her sole focus, is standing right in front of her, knuckles brushing against her own as they strolled through Arkadia. So she pushes it down for the moment, allowing herself to breathe; a moment to take in the air and the Earth and the girl.

When they return to her room to retire for the night, she inspects the healing wound on Lexa’s stomach, feels a wave of nostalgia wash over her.

“It’s doing well.” She notes, index finger trailing along the stitched path. Lexa shivers under her touch, green eyes focused on the blonde and her actions.

“Are you cold?” She husks, eyes lidded, as she leans forward, her body magnetically attracted toward the brunette.

“No.” Lexa whispers, swallowing, gaze falling to Clarke’s lips as the blonde’s do the same.

“Lexa.” She says through a sharp intake of breath, heart drumming away in her ears.

“Clarke.” The brunette returns just as breathlessly, barely able to pronounce the click at the end of her name that she usually lingered on.

She doesn’t think either of them actually speaks a word out loud, but they’re leaning into one another. She can see the small freckle on Lexa’s top lip and the ring of brown around her pupils. S _o close._

Their noses touch and her eyes flutter closed, brushing against soft skin.

 _Kiss me._ She silently wills the brunette. _Please._

She can feel Lexa’s warm breath dancing against her lips. Just a little further and…

The brunette pulls back.

“I…” she stutters. “I’m sorry.” She apologizes, shifting away from the blonde. “I’ve overstepped.” She purses her lips regretfully. “You still miss _her_ and I did not…”

Clarke sighs. “It’s okay. Let’s just go to sleep.” She deflects. Lexa nods, and they change into comfortable clothing, Clarke struggling to keep her eyes from drawing over to the brunette’s back as she pulls a light cotton shirt over her head. The muscles flex and tattoos on her back twist with her skin. She wants to trace over it. To kiss a trail down her spine. One for every time the brunette made her fall for her. And millions more for every second of every day.

She turns off the lights, settling into her bunk while Lexa climbs into her cot silently, turning on her side.

“Goodnight, _Klarke kom Skaikru_.” The brunette says into the darkness.

Clarke lays silent. When she hears Lexa’s breathing, signaling that she had fallen asleep, she whispers a “ _Reshop, Heda_ ” into the darkness, and closes her eyes.

She wakes not even an hour later, her heart feeling as though it was being squeezed by an imaginary force. Something was off. She looks over to the brunette’s bunk, squinting into the dark. When she’s fails to make out the girl’s silhouetted form, she runs to the light switch, flicking it on.

Lexa is missing.

She quickly slips on her shoes and tears through the building. She’s sure she’s probably awakened some of the residents with the sound of her boots against the metal halls, but she has no time for silence when her brain is screaming.

She’s about to round up a horse when she catches sight of a small figure standing just outside the gates. Her heart rate finally plummets as she approaches the brunette. Lexa turns before she gets to her, hearing her coming, or sensing her presence. _Probably a bit of both._

“What are you doing out here?” She asks carefully.

The brunette holds out a clasped hand sheepishly. When Clarke looks down, she releases her fingers so that her palm is facing openly and two small specks of light fly out from her grasp, floating in a dance around one another before rising up into the night.

“When I was younger, I used to think of them as pieces of the sky that had fallen down.” The grounder confesses. “I tried to catch them sometimes, wanting to hold on to them and keep them, like small guardians that came to bring light to the darker parts of our world.” She explains. “They were like stars, on the ground. I’ve always wanted to have a star of my own.”

Clarke looks out into the darkness, catching sight of the blinking bodies of the lightning bugs. She looks up at the sky full of stars.

“They’re nicer than stars.” Clarke says.

“Why do you say that?” Lexa tilts her head, skillfully catching another bug with one hand before reopening her palm to let it fly away.

“Stars stay where they are. They’re stuck in the sky.” Clarke admits. “They can’t move.” _I can’t move forward._

“Stars only come out at night when we need them most.” The brunette says metaphorically. “Just as _these_ hide in the winter.” She gestures to the dancing light surrounding them, rising against the grass blowing in the breeze.

“At night and in the winter, the world sleeps, but in the summer, with the light of day, we awaken ourselves again, bringing new life.” Lexa says gently. “We start again.”

Clarke takes a moment to collect herself, overwhelmed by the girl’s words.

“Will you show me how?” She asks.

“Of course.” Lexa nods, leading her back inside.


	21. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's visions come more frequently until Clarke is forced to confess.   
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Terrified by Katherine McPhee

Lexa was still healing from her injury and Clarke was admittedly, probably being a bit overbearing with the amount of attention she was giving to the brunette while monitoring her recovery. In the rare occasion that Lexa’s focus was elsewhere; be it nodding along to Monty’s explanation of various grasses or offering sympathy to Raven’s ranting over some signal filtration system, Clarke studied her. She made an effort to commit every feature to memory as best as she could, desperately wanting to capture the girl in every way; her bright smile, her insightful eyes, and her selfless soul. They all radiate from the brunette effortlessly.

It had become a routine in their short time together in Arkadia. They would spend time with her friends during each meal, but the rest of the day was spent with one another be it walking through the settlement, helping out in the garden, or assisting in any other ways they could. While they occupied themselves with various tasks to help benefit her people, Clarke personally occupied herself with the task of trying to rein in her emotions. With every brush of a hand, a small smile; the one that Lexa only used around her, her heart would skip. It was growing harder for her to resist, especially when they were alone.

It was the times when they sat in the privacy of her room, behind closed doors that Clarke felt strongest and weakest all at once. Her heart constantly called out for the brunette, despite the fact that she was sitting just a few feet away from her.

Lexa still mumbled things in her sleep until Clarke physically would reach out to still her movements,. When she woke in a cold sweat, they would discuss what they could, what Lexa was comfortable with. Other times, the brunette would wake, eyes full and soft, with the affectionate flicker that Clarke had once seen returning to her gentle gaze. They don’t discuss those dreams. Yet, with every memory and every tender glance, the blonde’s heartstrings were tugged harder, tightening until she could practically feel herself constricting. With tensions rising, all she could do was excuse herself from the room, taking a moment to calm her thundering heart.

At night, they picked up where they had last left off with their lessons about one another. With the sounds the world stilled, Clarke was able to finally focus. She wouldn’t mind if this was all she ever did again. And somewhere in between it all, they had started moving closer to each other.

“Clarke?” Lexa asks into the darkness, her bunk pushed against Clarke’s. They had been laying in silence for so long that the blonde had assumed she had fallen asleep again. “Are you asleep?” She asks again, voice lethargic as she teetered on the line between consciousness and sleep.

“Hmm?” She rolls on her side to face the girl just an arm’s reach away from her. It would be so easy to just wrap herself around her and lose herself in Lexa’s embrace, but with great effort, she maintains her distance.

“You’ve only told me about your life in space.” The grounder notes, propping her head up in the heel of her hand. “What happened when you came to the ground? How did you get here?”

 _I feel in love with the ground and the person that commanded it._ She wants to say. They’re treading in dangerous territory and Clarke is terrified.

“Well, our people had really twisted politics.” She says instead.

“I can understand that.” Lexa lets out a huff.

“Huh?” Clarke shuffles.

“Our people, our ideals. I don’t always agree with them either.” Lexa says.

Clarke blinks a few times, recovering after a moment. She’s grateful for the fact that, despite being as close, they were still in a dark room and the brunette isn’t able to read her expression too clearly.

“Anyway, since we were in space our resources were limited.” The blonde explains. “Every family was restricted to having one child. We were only allowed to use certain materials, eat a specific amount of rations, and so on.”

“You did what was required to survive at the time.” She makes out Lexa nodding, listening calmly. “We’re not so different after all, I suppose.”

“No, no we’re not.” Clarke agrees. “Certain things, anyway.” She mumbles.

“Sorry, please continue.” The brunette apologizes . “I’ve interrupted.”

_You really did. The moment I met you, everything I knew about the ground changed._

 

“So anyway,” She continues. “I and a group of one hundred others, prisoners that were locked up, were sent down to Earth to see if we would be able to start a life here, to find a new home.”

“And did you?” Lexa inquires. “Did you find a new place to start anew?”

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks and Lexa shifts in the darkness. “But not in Arkadia.” Clarke says quietly.

“Where?” The brunette asks curiously.

 _With you. In you._ Clarke thinks.

“The dropship.” She says instead. “What’s what we initially came down in, just the few of us. That’s why we buried Jasper there. He was one of them, one of us. We were a family.”

“In fact, when we first came down…” She pauses.

“What?” Lexa whispers carefully.

“Well, when we first got here we thought we were alone. We thought it was just the trees, the sky, and us.” Clarke confesses.

“And you soon learned that you were not alone?” Lexa concludes.

“Yeah.” Her heart clenches. _I will always be with you._ Lexa echoes in her chest.

“So then what happened?” The grounder prompts.

“Well, your people attacked us, attacked Jasper.” She clarifies.

“I’m sorry.” Lexa apologizes.

“It’s okay.” She consoles. “We didn’t know each other at the time. We didn’t know each other’s cultures and our arrival was an invasion of your land. Besides, we aren’t innocent either. We were all scared and we fought back just as hard.”

Lexa sighs and lies back down, facing the ceiling and Clarke wonders if she’s imagining the sight of the Ark falling from the sky.  “Fear yields violence which results in walls being built and tension between parties.” She says wisely. “The true solution is learning to understand one another.” She practically whispers.

The blonde nods in agreement. “Lives were lost on both sides until we realized that there was a third enemy, The Mountain Men.” Clarke explains.

She goes on to describe the men and their food, their clothing, and more not noticing that Lexa had since fallen asleep.

She can hear the steady pace of Lexa’s breath, sensing the rise and fall of her chest. Clarke allows herself to decompress her heart that had been pounding ever since they had started the story.  She rolls closer, delicately tracing her fingers against Lexa’s jawline and the girl releases a content sigh in her sleep.

“And then I met you.” Clarke whispers. “That’s when the real story began.”

Eventually, sleep takes her as well, head full of Lexa, her voice, the soft puff of air she released when she laughed, the small yawn she had fought so hard against…

“Goodnight _, Sonchagapa_.” The ghost of a whisper flutters into her subconscious as she closes her eyes and finally falls asleep.

\---

She wakes first, admiring Lexa’s sleeping form. It brings back memories of the portrait. She tiptoes to her storage trunk, riffling through its contents until she sees it. Buried beneath a stack of books, the flimsy edge peeks through, the white of the page casting a reflective surface amongst the contrasting shadows. Carefully extracting the piece of paper, taking her time not to disturb the sleeping girl, she pulls it out, finally finding the strength to be able to look at it again after almost half a year.

Five months ago, Clarke had left Polis, heart heavy and broken. The despairing feelings had lingered on, clenching around her, coiling until she could no longer breathe. But now, Lexa was in Arkadia, sleeping soundly with Clarke to watch over her. All she wants is to keep the girl safe, every smile, preserved. Every reason to push forward, validated with the gleam of the girl’s green eyes.

Lexa clutches sheets with one hand, whimpering in her sleep and Clarke drops the drawing back into the trunk, shutting it tight. The mummers continue as Lexa claws at her stomach and Clarke is forced to intervene, prying the girl’s hand away for fear of her tearing away her stitching or causing further injury. She holds Lexa’s hand in her own lap, thumb rubbing against the girl’s knuckles until her body stiffens and she bolts awake.

“Another one?” She says sadly.

Lexa blinks, disoriented, before withdrawing her hand away from the blonde. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I usually don’t get them this often. It must be because of the new environment.” She looks around the room. “I suppose I am still getting used to it all.”

“Want to talk about it?” She offers.

“I felt it in my veins. Like it was real. Too real.” She says, voice detached and eyes hazy. Clarke can visibly see the girl withdrawing herself back into her dream, recalling every detail as she slowly describes them out loud. “The bang. It was a gunshot. I’ve always known, but I never saw the faces until…” She pauses. “My…” Her hand goes to lay flat against the place where her scar is on her stomach. “It really happened.” She pieces together. “And it happened _to me.”_ Her brows knit together as more of the story starts finally making sense. “A gun. A weapon from your people.” Lexa realizes. “I was attacked by your people.” Her voice is thick and Clarke senses a hint of anger. “Your people tried to have me killed!” She growls.

“No,” Clarke shakes her head, moving closer to the brunette, who follows her movement and keeps her distance. “Lexa, please. It wasn’t us.” The blonde tries to assure.

“But our people,” Lexa cuts off. “Last night, you said that they attacked one another. No one else has guns except you.”

“And the Mountain Men.” Clarke attempts to point out.

“But the Mountain Men had already fallen. They were vanquished by…” She pauses again, clutching her head in frustration. “Why can’t I remember?” She groans. A fury of anger and pain set ablaze in her green eyes. It’s the first time since the massacre that Clarke has seen Lexa actually lose herself to rage.

“Lexa,” Clarke says as softly as she can. “It’s okay.” She places a hand on the brunette’s arm.

“No. It’s not okay.” She snarls.

“It is.” The blonde tries to alleviate. “You can’t…”

“No.” Lexa cuts off, eyes narrowed. “It isn’t okay because…” She pauses, looking into Clarke’s eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. “Because _you_ were there.”

Clarke removes her hand as if she had just been burned. Somewhere it her heart, she _was_.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Lexa asks. “Yours is the only face that I could remember. The only face that I can see. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was _real_.”

Clarke looks up, vulnerable, and the hardness in Lexa’s eyes softens slightly.

“It was. And I’ll admit, I was there. But I didn’t shoot you, Lexa. You have to trust me.”

_I do trust you, Clarke._

“Then who did?” The brunette interrogates. Her eyes are turbulent and wary all at once. Clarke finally gives.

“Titus.” The blonde sighs.

“Titus?” Lexa tries the name out. “This name sounds familiar. Who is he?”

“Someone who was supposed to keep you safe.” She says, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Lexa’s brows knit together in confusion. “Why would he try to kill me then?”

“He wasn’t.” Clarke shakes her head. “He was trying to kill _me_.”

“Oh.” Lexa says quietly. She can see the gears turning and the brunette trying so hard to remember, to recall anything, even if it were just a minute detail.

“You almost died for me.” Clarke apologizes. “I owe you my life and so much more.”

“Is this why you’re keeping me here?” _To keep me safe._ Her eyes finish for her.

Clarke swallows thickly.

“Thank you for telling me.” Lexa says, though tension still hangs over the two. “I think,” She stands, distancing herself. “I think I need some time to process this.” She confesses and Clarke lets her go, unable to move from her place as she latches onto Lexa’s retreating figure and the metal door that it disappears through.


	22. The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, mother knows best, especially when Clarke is angsty.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: In My Arms by Plumb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, I made this. It's Clexa swearing (without fealty.) Go watch! Laugh! Enjoy!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymc2ZtV5uhQ

When the grounder leaves, Clarke is left behind, trapped in her mind and overcome by her thoughts.

Just a few seconds.

That’s all it took for everything to change. That’s how it always seemed to be with them.

Just a few seconds for her to realize she wanted to keep kissing her, but too scared to turn around…

Just a few seconds to see that they weren’t so different after all…

Just a few seconds to betray her, with a heavy heart and sorry eyes...

Just a few seconds to crumble and drop the knife, unable to carry through with the assassination…

Just a few seconds to love her…

Just a few seconds to loser her all over again…

_Always just a few seconds too late._

She walks to the small storage trunk, retrieving the old sketch and some charcoal from her desk, heart and soul full of Lexa and a yearning for the brunette. Her hand starts to move over the curves of her shoulders, the slope of her nose, cut of her jaw, and the rise of her brow. She starts to shade the missing areas, the image of the sleeping Commander permanently engrained in her mind.

The thought that Lexa would, or could eventually recall all of their past, good and bad, was terrifying. What if, this time, she didn’t feel the same? If she realized that it would have been easier to push Clarke away? Love was weakness. It’s what eventually got her killed. What if she was angry at Clarke for withholding the truth from her? So many what if’s. Yet her biggest fear was that Lexa wouldn’t _trust_ her. Not even that she wouldn’t need her or want her, but _trust._ The whole dynamic of their relationship was built on trusting one another in judgment, in strength, and in love. None of that would matter if Lexa couldn’t look at her; if she walked away.

She brushes her finger over the finished portrait, tracing the outline of Lexa’s cheekbone and across the sleeping girl’s lips. How she wishes to have them against her skin again.

A droplet falls from her eyes, plopping down onto the parchment. She hastily brushes it away before it can smear the drawing, but more soon follow as she worries herself to tears. Casting aside the paper, she replaces the charcoal in the drawer and moves to the bed, portrait between her shaking fingers.

She doesn’t want to lose her. She can’t. She falls asleep with an uneasy feeling in the pit of stomach, the drawing slipping from her grasp and onto the floor. 

“Clarke?” A voice pulls her from her thoughts. After Lexa had left that morning, she slept in, not having the energy or motivation to actually leave her room. Part of her was scared that she had ruined things between them, and the other part desperately wanted, and waited, pleading for the brunette to return.

“What are you still doing in here?” Her mother asked. “Why aren’t you out with…” She pauses when she sees her daughter’s eyes, red-rimmed and swollen.

“What happened?” Abby asks tenderly, maternal instincts kicking in as she moves to sit with her daughter in the bed, arms wrapping around her small frame, pulling the blonde to her chest.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Clarke’s voice cracks. “I thought things were getting better. But then the competition came up, which I still haven’t dealt with, because I’ve been too focused on the fact that she’s starting to remember. And even though I hoped that she would, now she _knows_. And I shouldn’t have hoped that because now I’ve lost her.” She hiccupped, thoughts and words incoherent to the doctor who tries desperately to console her hysterical daughter.

“I don’t want to let her go, I can’t let her leave. She could get hurt. I don’t know if I can handle…”

“Clarke, honey.” Abby coaxes gently. “Slow down. What do you mean ‘now she knows?’ What does who know?” The older woman asks.

“Lexa.” Clarke takes a moment to breathe again. “She’s been having flashbacks to her past, like some sort of PTSD or something. Her memories are slowly coming back in little bits and pieces. Every time she goes to sleep, she thinks they’re nightmares or dreams, but they’re actually memories. This morning, she remembered how she died,” She pauses because it’s not quite the right word. “Well, was shot.” She corrects. “I was there for it. She saw me in her dream and she thought it as me, that I attacked her.”

It was the first time that she had told anyone about what had happened that fateful afternoon.

“And did you tell her that it wasn’t you?” Her mother infers from her expression. There was no way that her daughter would be able to go through with killing her, not with the way that the blonde looked at her. She was someone special to her.

“Yes.” Clarke nods carefully.

“And what did she say?” her mother encourages gently.

“She thanked me and said she needed time to think.” The blonde recalls.

Her mother rubs her back with a kind smile. “So then give her time.” She urges. “You haven’t lost her, Clarke. It’s a lot to take in.” She pats the blonde’s hair down before cupping her cheeks to wipe her eyes with a brush of the pads of her thumbs.

Clarke takes a second to calm down, realizing just how paranoid she was being. It wasn’t that she wanted to be, but Lexa was her everything. If there was even the slightest chance that she could lose her again, the blonde would have reacted all the same.

“Now,” Abby begins after the silence. “What is this you said about a competition?”

The blonde sighs, feeling the weight of the burden of leading from both her people, and on behalf of Ontari. “Ontari is surrendering the throne and holding a competition for the next commander because she would have been killed for what she did if she didn’t.”

“Why would she do that?” her mother questions. “What did she do that was so bad that murder would be the only solution?”

“She…” Clarke pauses. “We destroyed the City of Light. We invaded a sacred place and then ended it.” She says guiltily. “The grounders aren’t going to accept it as anything less than a betrayal to their people and their traditions.”

Her mother’s eyes widen. “You and Lexa were involved as well.”

Clarke nods. “Exactly.”

“Clarke,” Abby’s voice shakes. “Are you in trouble?”

“I…” She wasn’t sure. She had fled just as Ontari had advised, but she still hadn’t assigned a delegate for her people to represent them in the competition. “Maybe?” She admits. “I need a nominative to compete on behalf of Arkadia. Since it can’t be an ambassador, Indra suggested Octavia, but I can’t…” She hesitates before continuing. “I can’t justify putting another person in danger for my own safety.”

“What does the competition entail?” Her mother asks.

“It’s an assessment of the three pillars of being a commander.” Clarke explains.

“What’s the first one?” Her mother asks, seeming to read her mind.

“Wisdom.” The blonde says nervously. Octavia was one of the youngest from the original 100. She didn’t get to go to school because she was trapped under the floorboards. Of course though intelligence, knowledge, and wisdom went hand in hand, they were all measured differently.

 “When you were in Polis, Octavia was one of the ones that helped lead the revolution. She helped Kane and I overthrow Pike.” Abby recalls.

“She went against her own people because she knew what was right. She separated blood and bond from justice and sacrifice. She turned from her own brother just to maintain peace with the grounders; a people that had rejected us. Because she knew it needed to be done for the _greater_ good.” She emphasizes.

“Octavia understood that what we did to the grounders was wrong, before most of Arkadia realized it. She knew that even though they were different from us, we were still a unified people.” Abby supports. “She warned them about our attacks and tried to help them, even when they didn’t accept her. For a long time, she was the only one they were willing to talk to, aside from Kane. Octavia understands the necessity in maintaining peace amongst all of us and learning to both assimilate into their culture and to work together to benefit the whole. Even though she may lean more towards the grounders, she’s still willing to be the bridge between our people.” She notes.

Clarke finds herself nodding in agreement.

“What’s the next pillar?” Her mother prompts.

“Compassion.” Clarke says before answering for herself. “When we were first landed on the ground, we didn’t know how to live with them.” She recalls. “It was Octavia who first gave them a chance, with Lincoln. She had faith in him and trusted him when no one else did. She took care of his injuries despite the fact that he was the enemy. She saw past all of the violence to who he was and then she fell in love with him.” The blonde explains, the parallels to her own experience striking her in the heart. 

“And finally?” Her mother says with a knowing smile.

“Strength.” Clarke says.

“Indra trained her for months, and she didn’t break when she was punished simply for existing. That in itself already is such a blow, but she showed strength of character, heart, and mind. She showed strength to continue fighting when Indra first made her her second and when she stood up against our people’s beliefs. She saw of potential in Octavia that all of us overlooked.” Abby says. “If Indra recommended her, it must be for a good reason.” The doctor pats her daughter’s hair. “Try not to worry.” She consoles with a small smile.

Clarke swallows.

“Come, let’s get you something to eat.” Her mother urges. “You must be starving.”

With a hesitant nod, she follows the doctor out of the room, momentarily leaving her worries behind the closed door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Paige Turco! Happy birthday!
> 
> Also, I'm feeling some kind of way about the finale this week. So in case you're feeling the same way, I just restocked the etsy shop with tons of necklaces and headpieces. Use the code S3FINALE to get 20% off so you can have a piece of Heda before we have to say our final goodbye. (Good until May 20th)


	23. The Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa has her own secrets that still she's afraid to share.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Surrender by Natalie Taylor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the finale is tomorrow. Please, kru, be safe and ste yuj. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. My tumblr inbox is open for anyone, anonymous or not. heyjayyay.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> (Only 2 more days to use the S3FINALE promo code on Etsy.)

The blonde still didn’t have much of an appetite, more consumed with worry than food. After the light breakfast, she and her mother departed their separate ways; the doctor having more patients she needed to attend to. As she passed by the greenhouse on her way back to returning to her room, she catches the familiar the familiar array of black and red, covered by cascading golden brown locks. She lets out a sigh of relief, comforted in the fact that even though she needed her space, Lexa had still remained within the walls of Arkadia.

_To keep you safe._

She watches through the glass, carefully inching closer until he can just barely make out the slightest bits and pieces of her conversation with the dark haired boy that approaches her shortly after she places a small seed into a clay pot, filling it with soil.

“It will be hard to let go.” She hears Lexa say, giving Monty a sympathetic look. “He meant something to you.” She notes.

“My best friend.” Monty nods. “I don’t even have anything left of him.”

Lexa shakes her head. “You have memories.” She reminds.  
“Tainted ones that I don’t want to revisit.” He says dryly, lips pressed together in a straight line.

“Good or bad, they are all still precious.” Lexa states. “They are the things that built and solidified your friendship.”

Monty bows his head and the brunette places a hand on his shoulder.

“You can hold on to the memories, but I hope that you will not allow them to have a hold on you.” She says wisely, patting the soil down in the pot in front of her. “A new beginning can start from something old and damaged. Over time, the ground will heal and be strong enough to provide a new foundation.” She pauses, allowing the words to sink in. “You can grow together again.” She says, handing the potted seedling to the young boy.

“Thanks, Lexa.” Monty says gratefully, facing lighting up with lifted spirit.

The grounder gives a small lift of her chin in acknowledgement of his gratitude.

“It was my pleasure.” She says. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have someone waiting for me.” She says knowingly. And Clarke stiffens as she turns, green eyes holding her gaze through the window.

Monty offers a wave in greeting to the blonde and a wave in departure to Lexa as the brunette bows out gracefully. As she approaches, Clarke worries of what she might see in those piercing green eyes. Would Lexa be angry? Sad? Disappointed? Those thoughts are quickly disparaged when she’s met with nothing but warmth and the same kind eyes that Lexa had always looked at her with.

“Hello, Clarke.” The grounder says in that tone that always made all of Clarke’s apprehension dissipate.

“How did you know it was me?” Clarke asks, surprised that the girl knew  it was her watching, even with her back to her.

“I always know when you’re around.” Lexa says with a careful smile.

_Entwined._

“How?” Clarke asks again, breath hitching when she sees the tenderness in Lexa’s eyes.

“I just do.” The brunette says softly. “I can feel you.” She adds with a shy blush.

Clarke feels the corners of her mouth curve into a genuine smile, which Lexa returns kindly. They hold each other’s gaze until Clarke actually feels her eyes watering from not blinking for so long.

“I’m sorry.” She finally says, apologizing.

_For this morning. For not telling you sooner. For making you doubt everything and causing you to relive these nightmares alone._

“Don’t be.” Lexa shakes her head. “Join me?” She gestures to the benches by the fire pit. Clarke nods, moving to sit a respectable distance from the brunette but is stopped when Lexa holds up a hand. She shrugs off the jacket that Raven had been loaning her, tilting her head in the direction of the space on the ground just in front of her. She places the garment on top for the gravel, looking back at the blonde with gentle eyes.

Clarke, understanding the silent request, sits down between the brunette’s legs, back to her as a set of deft fingers comb through her hair, careful not to tug too hard, patiently untangling any knots as she interweaving the golden strands into an intricate pattern. Clarke allows her eyes to flutter closed as Lexa works, nail gently scratching at her scalp.

“I want to remember my past.” Lexa says after a moment, breaking the silence between them. “I just feel that...” She pauses, fingers stilled in place and Clarke wishes she were able to turn around and see the grounder’s expression, or even just her eyes, which were enough to say all the things between them, without saying a word out loud.

Lexa sighs, fingers resuming again, brushing at the base of her neck.

“What is it?” Clarke tries to ask, hypersensitive of the amount of pressure Lexa was expending on her hair, using it to assess the girl’s emotions.

“There are many things that I have been sensing, feeling, reliving, regarding my past that have just recently started to become clear” she pauses. “Or clearer, I should say.” Lexa confesses.

“Like what?” Clarke tries to keep her voice as level as possible.

“Well, the accident, for one.” Lexa notes. “I could not remember it, yet I had many dreams about it. Before this morning, I did not know if the things I saw were just dreams or if they were true. There are so many things that I have seen in my sleep and now I cannot tell if they are true or just dreams.” She sighs. “Or maybe they’re...” She trails off, grip loosen on the blonde’s hair.

“Maybe they’re what?” Clarke asks.

“Maybe they’re just wishes.” She confesses.

There’s a small brush against Clarke’s shoulder as Lexa release her hair, allowing the braids to fall naturally.

She feels Lexa shift, the warmth of her body leaving with her as she stands and Clarke soon follows, gathering up the coat, handing it back to the grounder.

“You look lovely,  _Klarke kom Skaikru.”_  Lexa says softly, chewing her lip. Clarke notices the slight shift in her demeanor as Lexa side steps around her.

“Lexa?” She asks timidly.

The brunette gives her a sad smile as she plucks a white flower from one of the shrugs outside of the greenhouse, placing it into Clarke’s hair, tucking a stray strand in with in.

“Perfect” She says, but her eyes are distant.

“Lexa?” Clarke tries again, taking a step closer, but Lexa pulls back.

“I offered to help Raven.” She says, diverting her eyes.

“Oh.” Clarke stumbles. “Okay, sure.” She says befuddled, allowing the brunette to pass.

Lexa pauses, pivoting at the last second. “May we meet again.” She adds as Clarke watches her leave for the second time that day, an unreadable expression etched into her features.

Alone, Clarke is left to wonder, sitting back on the benches where Lexa had just been, boots kicking gravel into the pit. Lexa had been so warm up until the last second. It was as if she had realized something, like she had suddenly withdrawn herself to keep a certain distance from Clarke. But her eyes, they were turbulent and conflicted.

The blonde sighs, feeding the fire for a while until she’s joined by a large figure, settling wordlessly at her side. She turns to him and he offers a look of concern.

“I’m okay.” She lies. He sees right through it.

“Did she do something to hurt you?” Bellamy asks protectively.

“No.” her voice falters. “No, I think I did.”

“Hurt her?” He concludes.

 _And myself._ She swallows. The older boy shifts closer, offering his sympathy. They sit in silence as the flames dances in front of them, the heat not quite reaching far enough to warm the blonde up.

“How are you going to fix it?” He asks after a beat.

“I don’t know if I can.” She shakes her head, eyes cast to the ground.

He frowns, studying her. “You know, you and Raven keep saying things like that, but the Clarke  _I_ know wouldn’t say that.”

“I’m not that girl anymore.” She grumbles.

“You’re right.” He encourages. “You’ve changed. We all have. But you’re still the same Clarke that tries to help her people, the Clarke that does what’s right and fixes what’s wrong. That’s just who  _you_  are, down to the core.” He says.

“Thanks, Bell.” She says genuinely. She had missed having his support and she realized what the strain on their friendship had done to the both of them.

“So,” She clears her throat. “You and Raven?”

“I...” His jaw clenches. “It’s still a new sort of thing but we...”

‘You don’t have to explain.” She smiles. “I’m happy for you. She could use someone like you to help her.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy rolls his eyes. “If she’ll ever accept my help.” He scoffs playfully.

“If anyone can handle her, it’s you.” Clarke encourages.

“Thanks.” He says rubbing the back of his neck.

They sit side by side, allowing for the small pocket of peace, listening to the fire crackle.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He says. “I should probably get back to Kane before he radios for me to get back to my post.”

“I appreciate it.” She says gratefully. He gives her a pat on the back as he leaves.

The sun begins to set and soon a breeze picks up, causing sparks to fly from the wood, flicking to the ground and sizzling at her feet. She decides it’s time to head back inside, wondering if maybe her mother might need some assistance in the medical bay.

As she makes her way, she passes the weaponry storage unit, eyes transfixed on a small handgun, similar to the one she used to carry. That is, up until she saw just how quickly it could end of a life.  _Or two._

By some magnetic force, she steps inside, reaching out for the gun as her fingertips ghost across the cool metal of the barrel.

“Clarke?” A low voice asks, emerging from behind one of the shelves. She jumps back, startled. “What are you doing here?”

She looks up to see Lincoln, a small sack slung over his shoulder as he fills the bag with supplies.

“Hey.” She greets, though somewhat caught off guard. “You’re going out on another trip?” The blonde ask, tilting her chin towards the pack.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Octavia and I are on hunting duty tonight. We’ll be back in the morning.” He explains. As if on cue, the brunette pops around the corner as well.

“Hi.” The brunette says carefully, taking a cautious step forward.

“About the other day...” Clarke begins to apologize but the warrior cuts her off.

“Raven told me.” Octavia says. “It’s okay. I didn’t know.” She apologizes. “And even while injured, she still managed to kick my ass.” She jokes, indicating that she was excused for her harsh reaction and there were no hard feelings.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you about that.” Clarke says.

“I won’t spare with her until she’s completely better.” The younger girl pledges.

“No, that’s not it.” Clarke shakes her head. “This is about Ontari.” She clarifies. “She’s surrendering the throne.”

“I heard.” The brunette says knowingly.

“So you know there will be a competition.” The blonde continues.

The warrior nods.

I want you to represent  _Skaikru_.” Clarke delegates.

“What?” The brunette’s brows knit together, taken aback. “Why?”

“Because we need someone that understands  _both_ of our people and isn’t afraid to go against her own if it’s for the greater good.” She explains.

“So many others could do that too.” The brunette objects.

“But I need  _you._ ” Clarke emphasizes. “Please.” Her emotions betray her, eyes tearing yet again.

“Clarke,” Lincoln steps in. “What’s going on?”

She inhales sharply, taking a shaky breath before she continues. “Lexa’s in trouble.”

“Why?” He asks.

“She destroyed the City of Light. We betrayed the grounders.” Clarke explains. “We need someone who can understand why we did it, why it wasn’t to end a tradition, but to protect humanity. They will listen to Octavia. _Skaikru_ took another thing from the grounders, but Octavia knows why we had to.” She divulges.

“You saw Raven.” She turns her attention back to Octavia. “You know what it did to Jasper.”

Octavia nods gravely and Lincoln wraps a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“You don’t have to win.” Clarke continues. “Unless you want to lead. But we need someone to go show them they we are equal. We are not weak, but we won’t attack either. IT needs to be a fair fight. You’re only there to represent us, nothing else.”

The brunette contemplates it for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

“Octavia.” Lincoln objects. “It could be dangerous.”

“It’s all we wanted.  _Peace.”_ The younger girl reminds. “You know that.”

Their concerned squabble reminds her so much of the way she had argued with Lexa over her own safety countless times, constantly struggling between emotion and responsibility. Her heart aches.

“But...”Lincoln tries to object again but is cut off.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Octavia says, mildly annoyed but her response alleviates both parties and finding a middle ground.

“We should go.” The male grounder ushers, placing the final tools into his bag.

“Right.” The warrior nods in agreement. She stops in her tracks right as the pair is about to depart. “Your hair looks nice.” She compliments.

“Thanks, actually, Lexa did it.” Clarke confesses.

“Of course she did.” The brunette shakes her head in amusement.

“What you mean?” The blonde asks in confusion, tilting her head, eyes squinting slightly as if she try to uncover the girl’s hidden agenda.

“Octavia…” Lincoln says sternly.

“The flower,” Octavia ignores his warning. “Did she give you that too?”

Clarke nods.

“Octavia, make we should..” he tries to usher the petite brunette away, but she stands her ground, shoving him back gently.

“ _You_ should tell her.” She turns to the man, looking up at him with a defiant tilt of her chin.

“Tell me what?” Clarke asks, looking between the two.

Lincoln sighs. “Clarke, Lexa wants to confess something to you.” Lincoln says. “That’s what the flower means. It’s a white flag. It’s surrendering yourself and throwing away all of your guards to allow in someone that you want to trust. She wants to tell you something but she’s afraid to say it. The flower is a way of asking if you will hurt her.”

“Never.” _I’ve already done it once._ She thinks regretfully.

 “How do you know all this?” The blonde asks when he finishes explaining.

“Lincoln gave me one when we first got together.” Octavia chimes in. “That type of flower holds meaning to the grounders, especially _Trikru_.”

“I gave Octavia the same flowers when you first landed. No one trusted me and we had to hide everything. There were a lot of things that went unsaid between us when I was first held hostage.” Lincoln reveals and Clarke looks apologetically at the grounder, who can only offer her a forgiving smile.

“I wanted to come clean.” He confesses. “To tell her why I followed her, why I was there in the first place. I wanted us to put down our differences, the conflicts, all of it. I just wanted to tell her how I felt.” He admits and Octavia softens beside him, leaning into his embrace.

“It means ‘I want us to set aside our walls and be pure and true to one another. I’m waiting for you, come find me. I want to confess the truth, will you too?’ That’s what Lexa’s trying to ask you.” he concludes.

“You should find her.” Octavia suggests and Clarke nods in agreement.

“Though, I think, maybe she’s the one who found me.” The blonde whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted there to be greater significance to the flowers that Lincoln left for Octavia back in Season 1, but I never found any so I made up my own theory. 
> 
> PS. The finale is tomorrow. Please, kru, be safe and ste yuj. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. My tumblr inbox is open for anyone, anonymous or not. heyjayyay.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> (Only 2 more days to use the S3FINALE promo code on Etsy.)


	24. The One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two learn to trust each other enough with the truth.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Unless by St. Lola in the Fields

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everybody is okay after the finale. If not, please talk to someone. My inbox is always open! Be safe, kru! I love you!
> 
> PS. Lexa can always be with you too! I made an exclusive gold charm bracelet in my Etsy shop.

Finding Lexa proves to be a lot more challenging than she had initially expected. The brunette did not show up at the dining hall for dinner, nor was she in Raven’s shop when Clarke had gone looking for her. Even her mother seemed unsure of Lexa’s whereabouts but assured her that ‘maybe she still needs space. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.’

_But she did._

Lexa was always leaving, it seemed, taking Clarke’s heart along with her. It was always rapid and they fell madly, openly, desperately.

Then just like that; it was gone.

The first time it happened was when Lexa left her at Mount Weather. Back then, Clarke didn’t understand her feelings towards the brunette. It wasn’t until they kissed that she realized the feelings of respect and loyalty, the trust she placed in the grounder, were more than just a direct result of being in similar positions. Yes, it helped, but there was much more below the surface. But her people came first, something Clarke quickly learned was a mentality that held true for her as well. _And just like that, she left, taking Clarke’s heart along with her._

The second time it happened, it was beautiful. It happened with Lexa beneath her, giving all of herself to Clarke. Yet, just a few minutes later, the warmth she felt would disappear onto cold, lifeless lips, when she… Clarke still can’t even bring herself to acknowledge the traumatic event. _And just like that, she left, taking Clarke’s heart with her._

The third time it happened was in the City of Light; when Clarke wasn’t ready for her to leave, when they had finally reunited. Being able to see Lexa, feel her again, was like living in a dream that she never wanted to wake from. Even when it was a nightmare, she still didn’t want to come back to reality. _And just like that, she left, taking Clarke’s heart with her._

Over and over again, it was never their time and they never stood a chance.

Clarke returns to her room disappointed and weary, striping herself of the stiff clothes suffocating her skin, and changing into a worn shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. With a heavy heart, she crawls into the girl’s empty bed, burying her face into the pillow. She closes her eyes but all she can see is the tormented expression on the brunette’s face as she tucked the flower behind Clarke’s ear. There was something different in her eyes, a flicker of change that shifted her demeanor and made the blonde wonder what the brunette be had been thinking.

Lexa’s eyes had always been her most telling feature. They told Clarke about the burdens she carried, when her mouth couldn’t move. They spoke the whispers of _be careful_ , when her position restricted her from saying it in public. They said _I love you_ when her heart was too scared to confess it out loud.

And blue eyes always had a response.

Late into the night, she hears the door creak open and rolls onto her side to face the source of the offending sound as she slowly opens her eyes, squinting into the darkness.

“Lexa?” She asks, voice laced with exhaustion and worry.

There’s the sound of a small footstep as Lexa enters the room, shutting the metal barrier behind her.

“I did not mean to wake you.” The brunette apologizes when they are alone in the dark.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Her voice cracks.

A pause and a silhouetted nod. In the blackness of the confined quarters, Clarke can detect the tension in the girl’s shoulders as she stands stiffly in place.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Clarke accuses before sitting up, extracting herself from the sheets..

There’s a deep breath that comes from the brunette’s direction. “You can stay there.” Lexa says. “I will take your bed.” She compromises, already moving to the opposite bunk.

“Wait.” Clarke blurts, lifting the blanket and scooting until her back is pressed into the wall, allowing enough room for Lexa’s slender frame to fit as well. “You can lay with me.” She offers with her heart on her sleeve. It comes out shy and helpless.

“That won’t be necessary.” The brunette’s footsteps pad over to the desk where Clarke watches the girl’s outlined figure remove her jacket, hanging it on the desk chair. “I should…”

“Please.” Clarke croaks, then tension thickening between them.  

The grounder hesitates, shifting from one foot to another. The quiet is deafening.

“Lexa.” her voice is vulnerable and she hears the girl audibly swallow before taking a step forward, shuffling in the dark until she’s changed and ready for bed.

She pauses in front of the bunk in a simple shirt and shorts before settling on the edge of the bed.

Clarke again lifts the blanket, offering her space.

_Resounding silence._

Finally, the brunette crawls under the sheets somewhat reluctantly. Blue eyes blink rapidly, eyes adjusting to the close proximity of the girl. They aren’t touching, but Clarke can feel the rise and fall of the grounder’s chest against the fabric, rippling against her own skin. They hold each other’s gaze, losing themselves within the silence. But when Lexa’s breathing starts to speed up, Clarke is forced to speak.

“Lexa?” Clarke says gently. The brunette’s breath hitches as she tenses and Clarke can hear Lexa’s heart pounding erratically, or maybe, that was hers as well.

“Lincoln told me about the flower.” Clarke finally continues, turning on her side. The brunette stays soundless, but shifts as well, facing the blonde. They’re close enough that Clarke can see the shadowed lashes of the girl batting in the dark, eyes still uncharacteristically unreadable.

“Talk to me.” She coaxes with slight desperation in her voice. She moves her head on the pillow, bringing her face even closer, eyes pleading. The seconds between feel like a lifetime until finally, the mask falls and the brunette’s orbs search hers. She’s conflicted, and Clarke can see a thousand thoughts whirling behind her eyes, each fighting to be heard, but getting stuck in her throat, unable to come out.

“I won’t hurt you.” Clarke promises. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you, Clarke.” She finally whispers and the blonde can’t help the tears that well up in her eyes.

“It is _I_ who has not been honest with _you_.” Lexa confesses, tone hushed, as if speaking the words too loud might shatter the fragility of their current state.

“What do you mean?” The blonde asks, brows wound together in confusion.

“There are some things that I have been keeping from you.” The brunette acknowledges with a sigh. Even in the dark, Clarke can tell that Lexa is struggling to properly find the right words to explain how she felt. She was always so careful with her words, knowing just how powerful they could be; more deadly than any sword or gun.

“I knew from the minute I saw you that something was different about you. It was the way you looked at me.” Lexa admits. “And after we met, I started to dream of you. At first, I didn’t think they were of any significance, but they kept reoccurring. You were there, each time, more beautiful than the last.”

Clarke holds on with bated breath.

“You started showing up in dreams that I’ve before I met you as well. Back when your face was spotty and the sound of your voice was hazy. For quite some time, most of your features were unclear, except for your eyes.” Lexa continues. ““I could somehow _always_ recall your eyes.” she professes.

“But recently, I have been able to see you _fully_.” She reveals. “The dreams that I’ve had, the nightmares, they’re all started to form a more cohesive story. It’s as if something…” She pauses. “ _Someone_ , has been helping me find them and put them back in order.”  

The words take a while to sink in and Lexa observes her, gauging her reaction with bated breath.

“Do you…” Clarke’s voice cracks.

“Remember us?” Lexa finishes for her with downturned lips.

Another pause.

“No.” She shakes her head sadly. “Not everything. But I want to.” She whispers, the yearning clear in her voice.

The blonde’s spirits waver and her heart falls just a bit. Lexa seems to sense it as she cups Clarke’s cheek.

“I want to,” The girl says again, more tenderly this time. “Because maybe it would help justify…” She bites her tongue. There’s a familiar drumming in her chest. “I think I…” Lexa stops herself, unsure of where to draw the line, not wanting to overstep. Even in the strained conversation, Clarke can’t help but be endeared by the brunette. Always so gentle.

“I love you too.” Clarke encourages.

“But not like you _used_ to.” Lexa points out. “Because I’m not...“ _I’m not me._

“I miss…” Clarke tries to fill the silence, but even she isn’t sure of what words to use, which feelings to key into. All she knows is that she’s overwhelmed with Lexa and that’s all she wants in that second.

“Her.” Lexa finishes for her, a somber feeling hanging in the air over them.

“Yeah.” Clarke nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. They lay there, their eyes locked in a dance, both searching with aching hearts.

“She misses you too.” The brunette says softly, eyes flicking down to the blonde’s lips.

“Do it.” Clarke speaks the barely audible words. “It’s okay.” She wills.

“I’m not able to remember.” Lexa hesitates, shaking her head. “It would not be fair.” _You’re in love with the memory of me, and I can’t recall being her._

Both girls release a sigh of frustration.

“I don’t care.” She finally admits. Because it’s true. For the first time, Clarke lets go of the past, and holds on to the small fragments of what’s left. For once, it’s enough and she is simply satisfied with what she has. She moves in closer.

“Clarke.” Lexa tries to object, but it only comes out as a ‘k’.

“I want you to.” Clarke finally chokes, a tear falling from her eyes. Lexa’s breath hitches and she leans in timidly, brushing her nose against the blonde’s. Clarke skims over it, tilting her head just barely grazing over Lexa’s lips. The angle is awkward, but she can’t bring herself to pay it any attention; her entire being, solely focused on connecting them in the moment.

The kiss is bittersweet, soft, and _so_ desperate. Clarke squeezes her eyes shut tighter, pressing forward. The more pressure she applies, the more Lexa trembles, but neither pull away, not wanting to break apart when their hearts were so set on clinging to one another.

One of Clarke’s arms circles around the brunette’s waist while she feels fingertips delicately trace along her jaw until they rest at the base of her neck, slipping through the waves of her hair.

Tears fall between them, and she tastes them on her lips. Salt. Mint. Honey. Earth. _Still Lexa._

She shifts to hover over the brunette, her weight resting on her elbow as the other hand wraps around the girl, grasping her shirt with urgency. Lexa lets out the smallest whimper, pulling her lips away, chest heaving. Blue eyes observe the girl, her hooded green eyes full of both adoration and vulnerability.

“Lexa.” Clarke breathes, loving the way those four letters glide from her lips. _L-e-x-a. L-o-v-e. Lexa. Love._ It repeats over and over again with each pounding beat of her heart.

“Clarke.” The brunette says with contentment, hands slipping around Clarke’s stomach, meeting at the small of her back.

Clarke melts into her embrace, burying her face into the brunette’s neck as she holds her close.

“Will you tell me?” Lexa asks timidly in a whisper in the blonde’s hair.

_No more running. No more hiding._

Clarke nods, lifting and resting her forehead against the girl’s. Her eyes flutter shut as she leaves a final promise in the breath against her lips. “Tomorrow.” She obliges.

She rolls off the girl, but keeps one arm encircled around her waist, afraid that she may slip away again. She falls asleep to the rhythm of Lexa’s breathing and the taste of her lingering on her lips.

\---  
  
The next morning, Clarke wakes slowly, arm splayed out to emptiness. She feels around to her side, hand grasping empty sheets. Coming into lonely consciousness, blue eyes search the room before landing on brown braids. She’s hit with a wave of relief seeing Lexa sitting at the desk with her back toward her. Her head is tilted downwards and Clarke realizes that she staring with rapt attention at something on the wooden surface.

“Lexa?” She rasps, voice still recovering from lack of use.

The brunette jumps slightly as though she had been pulled from her own world. She looks up with teary green eyes.

“Lexa?” Clarke sits up, alarmed. When she stands, she catches a glimpse of what the girl had been so focused on just seconds ago, eye level now allowing her to get a clear view.

_The drawing._

She had completely forgotten about it. It had fallen from her grasp the previous morning but she never took the time to pick it up from the floor under her bed. Lexa must have seen it from where she had been laying when she woke that morning.

“I…” She studies the work with longing interest. “I think I remember this.” She finally says, lifting the page as her fingers brush against its tattered edge. “But differently.”

“I finished it.” Clarke admits.

“The bedroom we were in...” The brunette concentrates on the shapes on the page and Clarke watches green eyes trace each line. “It was not my room in the village.” She recalls, the pieces gradually falling into place. “Where were we?” She asks.

“Polis.” Clarke answers honestly.

“The capital?” Lexa deduces. “Why?”

“That’s where home was.” The blonde confesses. Key word being _“was.”_

“Polis was _home_?” The brunette tilts her head as her eyes narrow in on her own face the mirrored on paper. Her hands start to shake and the echoes of the quivering sheet trembles between them.

“Yes.” Clarke says carefully. _But now it’s where you are._

“Polis is where the important political leaders gather.” Lexa realizes. “I was…”

“Important.” The blonde reiterates the comment from before. _Special_. Her heart tacks on.

“Important…” Lexa gives a small nod as she processes the words. “You and I were in Polis.” She ponders. “You are Wanheda, an ambassador.” She assesses. “So I was?” She pauses, waiting for Clarke to respond.

“ _Heda.”_ The blonde barely manages to respond. 

The parchment drops from her trembling hands the same time her jaw does, green eyes wide.

“Lexa?” Clarke asks cautiously, taking a step closer. She wants to reach out and comfort her but reels herself in. “Say something.” She pleads.

The brunette does move, eyes trained on the fallen page at her feet. Her jaw snaps shut, clenching.

“It’s starting to make sense.” She realizes, words slipping through gritting teeth.

There a knock on the door, interrupting them at the most inconvenient time.

“Clarke?” Her mother peaks her head into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She apologizes, clearly able to pick up the tension between the two. “Clarke, we need you in the committee room.” She says, eyes still on the brunette who sits with her fists balled in her lap.

“I’m not on the board.” Clarke bites out, desperate to get back to the conversation with Lexa.

“Indra is here to discuss some things with you.” The doctor objects warily. She looks carefully at the grounder, whose shoulders are still tensed, expression guarded. Clarke bites her lip, worried for the girl’s mental state.

“Lexa, come with us?” Her mother addresses, sensing her daughter’s hesitance in leaving the girl alone.

The brunette nods once. After the two girls change quickly into more presentable attire and grabbing a handful of berries for breakfast, she follows the two Griffin women to the counsel room.  

They talk simple trade negotiations first, but Clarke is sharp. She quickly realized exactly why she’s here.

She watches Lexa from the corner of her eye. She stands watchfully in the corner, her posture astute, poised, and dignified with her chin raised. Her hands are clasped behind her back as she listens; unbeknownst of the shadow of a commander that she currently was portraying.

At one point, brunette even cut into the conversation, offering wise advice. Everyone in the room seemed to pause, clearly recognizing the similarities.

“Thank you. That is a wise decision.” Marcus says with a small half smile as they move onto the next order of business.

“Now that that is settled,” Kane sets down his pen, looking around the room.

“We must discuss… _Heda_.” Indra cuts in.

Clarke catches Lexa stiff at the woman’s addressing of the title. It must have sounded familiar to her in that voice.

“Octavia was delegated to represent the _Skaikru_ in the competition in Polis tomorrow.” Indra explains and the rest of the room. She’s met with a few nods, while green eyes are still zoned in on her. The warrior tries her best not to make eye contact as she continues.

“The Commander’s position would allow her to lead all 13 clans, should she win and accept the honor.” Indra poses. She continues to explain the terms and conditions of the competition promising to return the following afternoon with the results of the challenge.  

 “She’ll win.” Lexa says with confidence when they exit the room.

 “How can you be sure?” Clarke asks, falling into step with the brunette as they return to her room.

 “Because…” Lexa says with ease. “My spirit can feel it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Did you listen to Unless during the kiss and get hit with a ton of feels? I know I did! :P 
> 
> Are you celebrating? The slow burn finally turned into a flame! (Pun intended!) Let me know what you think! 
> 
> PS. I'm going to be on vacation next week and I'm not sure if I'll be able to write another chapter before I leave. So just a heads up, my fic writing might take a 2 week hiatus.


	25. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds herself back in Polis.   
> \---   
> Soundtrack: Ever Enough by A Rocket To The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I wanted to leave you guys with something before I left for vacation. I rushed through this one and didn't get to proofread it, but then again, I never really proofread anything. :P

Just as one problem seemingly gets resolved, another one arises. She really should know by now because isn’t that how it always is for her? No matter what she wants or how hard she tries, there’s always something that prevents her from being with Lexa. Only this time, it’s the girl herself.

They have only just returned to Clarke’s room to finish their discussion from the morning when the two girls are interrupted yet again by Kane, radio in hand and a perplexed look upon his face. He watches the two carefully before informing them that they have been called to the capital. Technically, Clarke is the only one that has been called, but Lexa has insisted on accompanying her on. Arrangements are then  made over the radio. 

Clarke observes the brunette’s demeanor as the voices crackle through the device. Lexa doesn’t flinch at all at the sound of Ontari’s voice, but the sound of Titus’s elicits a much different reaction. The blonde can see the realization trigger across her face and she swallows hard when Titus’s voice grunts through the small electronic. She wonders if Lexa is more angry, hurt, or betrayed by the man but her actions don’t give much away. In fact, she doesn’t do much else except for slide closer to Clarke, which the blonde welcomes willingly. She takes a moment to press the outside of their thighs together as a means of physical assurance while the rest of the conversation transpires. When the discussion concludes, plans have been solidified on behalf of Ontari and Titus. They are to set out on their trip as soon as possible with Indra, Lincoln, and Octavia as their escort. They are to arrive by late afternoon and attend a confidential meeting that evening, followed by dinner. 

It seems simple enough with all the planning already taken care of, but the blonde knows that the journey could be dangerous. Despite Ontari’s announcement to the rest of the clans that peace _ must _ be upheld until the end of the competition, to allow for spectators to safely enter and leave the city, there was always the risk that her demands would not be abided by. After all, her words don’t have as much of a hold over the Coalition anymore as the impending end of her reign draws near. 

When Lexa requests to join her to the capital, Clarke allows it because she doesn’t have the heart to tell her no, regardless of the potential dangers. It was the way Lexa seemed to glow at the mention of Polis, the way her eyes sparkled and her chest inflated. Selfishly, she also wants the brunette along with her as well. At her side.  _ Always.  _

_ I will always be with you _ . 

“Okay.” The blonde obliges.

After the reveal and the complete disarray of Lexa’s emotions, Clarke couldn’t bare the idea of putting the brunette though any more stress. Her internal struggle between recognizing who she seems to be and who she was is highly apparent. She’s still perplexed by the past memories that she can recall in minute flashbacks and dreams, and try as she may, Clarke can only explain so much. She doesn’t understand the grounder culture fully, nor does she know much about Lexa’s history before they met. It’s something they both wanted to know about though, it seems; Clarke, for more personal reasons, while Lexa, simply needing to grasp on to some sense of self. 

As they leave, the brunette gazes longingly at the drawing that was still sitting in place on the desk. WIth a sigh, she follows the blonde as they suit up for the ride. 

“You alright?” Clarke asks as she brushes her knuckles against the girl’s while they walk. Blue eyes are sympathetic, while a small smile simultaneously appears upon her features. 

Lexa remains quiet but nods timidly. She’s conflicted and Clarke makes a silent promise to the girl. If her presence was all that she could offer as solace, she would give herself to Lexa  _ endlessly _ . But she would still try her best to do  _ more _ . Just as Lexa had done for her time and time again. 

It was her turn to be the support that Lexa needed her to be and she was determined to do so. She just hopes, with her limited experience, it would be enough. She finally realizes how Lexa must have felt those several months ago when she was worrying about Clarke’s safety and mental health. Her wellbeing was more important to her than her own right now. After all, Clarke still has Lexa. And Lexa was the most important person in her life right now. And every lifetime, she thinks.  _ Transpiring souls. _

Lexa has Clarke too, but not the same way. And it breaks both of their hearts. 

She and Lexa are given traditional grounder attire to change into, disguising themselves to be unrecognizable during their entry into Polis. Exchanging their jackets, zippers, and buttons for loose fabrics, buckles, and ties, the two ride alongside their bodyguards as the heat of the  afternoon sun soaks through the treetops, the light conducting the branches in the wind to cast dancing shadows across their skin as they travel through the wooded terrain.

Upon their arrival into the city, Lincoln and Octavia depart together in their own separate direction, leaving the two girls alone with Indra walking a careful distance from them as they hustle through the alleys with direction and purpose. Clarke takes the time as they navigate the bustling streets to study the grounder at her side.

Lexa’s eyes are filled with genuine fascination and pure elation. Even though her memories of the city are spotty, the girls seems at ease here, much more comfortable in her grounder dress, amongst her grounder people. The blonde notices the small things; her tells that she had always been able to hide from everyone.  _ Everyone but Clarke _ . 

She notices the way Lexa’s steps slow, as if she wants to stay just a bit longer, lingering in front of a certain stall. 

She notices the way her fingers twitch at her side, as if she’s trying her best not  to reach out her hand and feel the tapestries for sale as they pass each merchant. 

Even her eyes give it away, glittering at the jewels on display in the various stands. Lexa inhales deeply, taking in the sights and smells of her people. And she’s torn.

Clarke can see how much she misses it, misses them. She’s hit with a wave of guilt for having kept the brunette away for so long. 

When they pass a small beekeeper stall, Lexa’s face immediately lights up. Knowingly, Clarke pulls her hood up over her head, wordlessly exchanging a small set of hand tools for an intricately carved candle. She pushes aside the guilty feeling in her stomach, handing the stick of wax over to the brunette with a gentle smile. 

“You are still  _ brighter _ .” Lexa whispers, leaning in with a with a beaming grin after picking up on Clarke’s sullen mood. Despite the smile she has feigned and plastered on her face, Lexa still sees her. The grounder gives her an encouraging nod and the blonde’s smile morphs into something genuine.

She's almost certain that she catches a glimpse of Indra rolling her eyes as she watches the two impatiently from the side before ushering them into the capital building. Once inside the safety of the tower walls, the two are free to explore while Ontari and Titus finish their lessons and formalize procedures for the next day’s competition. They are informed that they will be called when needed and until then, are left to their own devices. 

The two stroll through the building as they wait, with Clarke occasionally asking Lexa what things she could recall about the place. She points out the paintings on the walls, the carvings in the furniture, and the different rooms and chambers until the brunette tires, unable to differentiate dreams from reality. Regretfully, she bows her head and continue down the hallway, walking the grounds in silence. 

As they approach one room in particular, the air grows thick around them. Consciously or subconsciously, Lexa’s steps become more hesitant and green eyes survey their surroundings, alert and on edge. Just down the hall, is the Commander’s chambers and a bit further, Clarke’s old room. The overwhelming feeling in the pit of her stomach bubbles over and spews into the brunette as well. They both tense. Lexa’s breathing grows sporadic and Clarke can see comprehension dawn over her features. Lexa sways slightly and for a moment Clarke is afraid she may pass out, taking a step forward instinctively, ready to steady the brunette if need be. 

“I remember running to the door.” The brunette confesses and a tear falls from shattered green eyes. Clarke’s expression falls as well as she attempts to brush the offending tear away, unaware that her own eyes seemed to be doing the same. 

It’s Clarke that recovers first. Reaching out a hand to grasp the brunette’s wrist, she wraps her fingers lightly around the soft skin. She brushes her thumb against the curve of the bone in gentle reassurance, pausing in the shadowed corner, away from prying eyes and guards, to offer a sympathetic smile. Soon Lexa return the same gratefully, reciprocating by secretly linking a finger with her’s. They had done this before and judging by the glistening light in the brunette’s now dried, green eyes, Clarke can tell that Lexa feels it too. Maybe she remembers. Maybe she senses that it’s familiar. It’s  _ home.  _

When the blonde goes to move them away from the memory stricken area, she’s surprised to find that Lexa keeps a firm hold of her finger, standing still. The grounder shakes her head, forcing her back upright, squaring her shoulders. She’s still trying to be strong, to be  _ Heda.  _ Clarke thinks maybe it has something,  _ everything,  _ to do with being in Polis. Her eyes silently convey her request and the blonde follows carefully behind as the brunette approaches the room, hand hovering over the cool metal of the door. 

She places her hand over the brunette’s, carefully lowering it until her fingers entwine between Lexa’s own, wrapping around the handle. 

“Together.” She encourages and Lexa nods, applying pressure and a twist of her wrist, pushing the door forward.

Her breath catches as she gets her first glimpse of the room since the incident. Her eyes immediately fall to the bed and she hesitantly takes a step forward. Clarke allows her some space, but lingers close just in case. The brunette trails slowly beside it, fingers running through the white furs, stopping to stand in the same place Clarke had hovered over her, kissing her goodbye one last time. 

Clarke watches her until her shoulders start to shake and her knees buckle beneath her weight. The blonde is at her side before she hits the ground. 

“Hey.” Clarke cooes, wrapping her arms around the brunette. “It’s okay.” She says into the crook of her neck. “You’re okay.” She reassures while Lexa continues to tremble in her arms. The blonde isn’t sure what to do. It’s nothing like she’s ever seen before. Even when they finally came together, Lexa shook like a leaf, but not like this. This was a girl, overwhelmed by Heda and overcome by Lexa. Two beings fighting to overpower the other for her conscience and self awareness. 

Clarke does what she can, hoping that maybe it’s enough for the moment, hand comfortingly up and down the girl’s spine until she’s relaxed again, resting her weight against Clarke’s chest. The brunette finally lifts from her body, blushing in embarrassment.

“Don’t be afraid. Death is not the end.” She recites and familiarity flashes across Lexa’s face. She surges forward with a salty kiss to Clarke’s lips and the blonde eagerly reciprocates, despite the ache in her heart. It’s somewhat tragic and broken; everything she needs, but nothing she wants.

When they break apart, Lexa looks softer, worn, and weary. 

“I could have made a difference.” The brunette whispers meekly. 

Clarke shakes her head in objection. “Not  _ could.”  _ She insists. “You  _ did _ .” 

Lexa swallows and Clarke knows it’s best to end the conversation there. The blonde takes her by the hand, ushering her to the bed, coaxing her to lie down before crawling in with her.

“ _ Reshop, Heda _ .”  She whispers gently. She places her body close to the brunette’s, senses tingling with the electricity between them.  “I’ll be here.” She promises. 

Lexa gives a hesitant nod, turbulent green eyes expose just how conflicted she truly is. The blonde tries her best to relieve her, pressing forehead against Lexa’s, brushing their noses together. The grounders eyelids soon grow heavy, contentment settling across her features at the feeling of Clarke’s small physical assurances.  

Clarke watches her sleeping, breath steady and strong, eyes darting back and forth behind her eyelids as she dreams. She hopes that she’s in them. She hopes they’re happy. 

Eventually, she feels herself drift off as well, the last thought on her mind; after everything she’s done, is it ever enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest question: Do you guys really hate Octavia that much? I mean, I know Octavia in canon is full of rage, but in my fic, Lincoln is alive, and she is happy and has been training with Indra for almost a year. She's novice, but she's not that bad, is she?


	26. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke confront Titus. They're in for some shocking decisions.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Battlefield by Lea Michelle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience. Hopefully the length of the chapter will make up for the haitus. It was initially going to include the competition, but I decided to just break it up because you've been waiting for so long. That said, I'm still working on Bend For Me and I have a High School AU in my head that I might write if anyone's interested.

Clarke shifts, one eye peeking open as she surveys her surroundings. She couldn’t have been asleep long, as the room is still brightly lit with the afternoon sun. And amongst the glow, just for a brief moment, she forgets where she is, somewhat confused to be back in her Polis bedroom. It’s not until she feels a soft, steady breath against her neck that she realizes where and why she’s here.

She turns carefully, rolling over to face the sleeping girl. She props her head in the center of her palm, resting her weight on her elbow as she uses her free hand to brush a strand of brown hair from where it had fall over the brunette’s delicate features. She takes a moment to study the gentle slope of Lexa’s nose that falls into the swell of plump, all-to-welcoming lips. She restrains herself from brushing her own against them, focusing back up on Lexa’s hidden green eyes and the way dark lashes curtain over the rise of the girl’s cheekbones; pronounced but not too sharp, still soft enough to be caressed. So that’s what she does. The blonde skirts her fingertips across each dip and swell of Lexa’s features, tracing over her face, trying to memorize the feel of her.

The brunette inhales sharply and Clarke freezes. Her form soon slackens again and the two release a synchronized sigh of contentment. Lexa shuffles closer to Clarke’s body in her sleep, seeking out the warmth of the blonde lying at her side, before her breathing returns back to a steady rate.

Clarke lets her hand fall lower to carefully make its way to the brunette’s triceps, thumb brushing gently over the fabric that was masking the elaborate patterns she knew were inked into the grounder’s skin. It’s comfortable and intimate, despite the two being fully clothed. Just being close again, being pressed against one another is enough.

She remembers the first time she saw Lexa’s tattoos with her body bandaged and bruised. Clarke had been so worried that day, and Lexa, confident and dignified as she was, was having none of it. At the time, she didn’t understand those feelings. The guilt, the anxiety, the urges…

_She did._

But she didn’t want to acknowledge them. But she knew she cared .She always had. Clarke remembers how devastated she had felt when Nia had made her initial threat. She internally cursed Lexa endlessly for being so stubborn and proud. She would have fought for her. _She did._

The afternoon of the battle, Clarke had felt a horrible swirling in the pit of her stomach. She had rushed to the arena, pushing through the crowd. She needed to see her. She needed to make sure that, if it was the last time she would ever see her, that she would remember has beautiful, as strong, and safe. The minute the spear plummeted into Nia’s chest, Clarke felt her entire body buzzing, overwhelmed with relief, pride, and something else that she had been so afraid to feel until it was almost too late.

And Lexa had been so respectful. It wasn’t until the brunette left her bedroom that Clarke registers how great the vastness of the distance between them had been. And  suddenly, the whole room had grown cold again. As she watched the brunette depart, she realized just how much she had wanted to reach out and touch her, to have the dark tattoos transfer from her fingertips through her veins to materialize across her own skin; to mark herself as a part of Lexa; to solidify that Clarke was hers. 

She regrets not keeping her closer.

“You think so loudly.” The brunette says through her signature smirk, lips quirked to the side. Her eyes are still closed and her voice is raspier, still tinged with sleep.

Clarke startles, withdrawing her hand and Lexa’s grin simply grows in response.

She had always been cheekier after a nap. It was that space between full awareness and dreams, before reality and responsibility were fully laid upon her, when she seemed to be her lightest. She was softer, purer in those moments; free to make playful remarks and behave true to her age, even if it was just for an instant. The blonde loved those miniscule seconds, because they were their secret and reserved only for times with Clarke.

_She turns from their embrace, chests heaving as she brushes her hair carefully over her shoulder. Clarke inhales sharply, loving the scent of mint and honey. Lexa scoots back until her frame is pressed flush against Clarke’s front. She reaches blindly behind her and Clarke fulfills the silent request, already knowing what Lexa is asking for. She brings her arm around the brunette’s body, pressing her hand to her heart. Lexa tilts her head down to kiss across Clarke’s knuckles, wiggling in her grasp playfully. Clarke lets out a chuckle._

_“Titus is going to be so mad when he finds out that I haven’t left yet.” Clarke urges. It was the second time that they delayed her departure. Not that she minded. She would gladly do it over and over again if it meant holding Lexa like this._

_“Titus has already worried himself bald.” She can practically hear the brunette rolling her eyes. “It isn’t as though he has any more hair to lose.” She says childishly and Clarke wraps her arms that much tighter around the brunette, wanting to hold on to the moment._

_“He can continue to wait.” Lexa says, unconcerned.  Clarke snickers, pressing her lips to the brunette’s shoulder._

“Hey.” Clarke finally speaks as she shifts to let her head fall to the space next to the brunette’s, noses just a millimeter apart as they share a pillow. The brunette seems to sense her movements, even with her eyes still closed and she shuffles back slightly to allow Clarke to join her. She releases a peaceful breath once Clarke has settled, tilting her head forward to bring their noses together.

“Hello.” Green eyes flutter open and Clarke’s breath catches in her throat. She sees everything; the flecks of the ring around her pupil, branching into the Earthy green in her eyes. The brunette smiles warmly at her and Clarke witnesses the sun bursting through those emerald orbs.

_Lexa is so beautiful._

“How are you feeling?” The blonde inquires in the intimate space between them.

Lexa brings their foreheads together to rest across from one another. She closes her eyes, brushing their noses as her head tilts from side to side. The blonde reaches over tentatively to wrap her arm around the brunette’s waist and Lexa immediately relaxes, finding comfort in the contact of her body pressed to Clarke’s.

 “Small.” The brunette replies, her voice unsteady and frail. It’s shattering. Lexa had always been so confident and self-assured. Yet in this very moment, she had crumbled.

“You are not small.” Clarke encourages, squeezing the grounder’s frame gently. “You are full of greatness. You brought us peace.” She says with a tender glance and the brunette smiles. She thinks Lexa understands when she reopens her eyes to press a kiss to the blonde’s forehead.  Clarke’s heart soars at the initiated intimacy and Lexa buries her head into the crevice of the Clarke’s neck, most likely to hide her blush, but the blonde just pulls her closer.

She’s missed this and judging by the way Lexa toys with the fabric of Clarke’s collar, hand hovering just above her heart, Clarke can tell that Lexa misses it too. She may not be able to completely remember being _Heda_ , just yet, but she definitely remembers Clarke. She remembers _them_.

A rough knock on the door pulls them from their embrace and Lexa pulls back hastily.

“Wait here.” Clarke urges, extracting herself from the space in the bed while the grounder sits up, straightening her wrinkled garb as she does.

She cracks the door open, peaking her head out.

“ _Wanheda_.” The man says stiffly. “May I speak with you,” He extends his neck to look into the room and Clarke closes the space between the door a little tighter. “Is she in there?” Titus adds, voice tinged with sadness.

Clarke takes a defensive stance, nodding once.

“What do you want?” She asks impatiently folds her arms over her chest.

The man grimaces at her biting tone. “Can we speak in private?” Titus asks, eyeing the closed door carefully and Clarke can see the way his jowl trembles.

The blonde nods reluctantly. “One second.” She closes the door again, leaving the man to wait in the hall. She turns her attention back on Lexa’s rigid frame. Her jaw is tensed and Clarke sighs knowing that Titus’s voice had probably triggered another flashback.

“Hey.” She soothes, placing a protective hand on Lexa’s shoulder. The brunette automatically leans into it and the blonde instantly feels guilty for abiding to Titus’s request.

“I’m going to the meeting.” She informs, not bothering to state who else would be in attendance. Judging by her posture, Clarke can already tell that Lexa knows.

“I’ll be right back.” Clarke insists, coming fully to Lexa’s side. She wraps herself around the brunette again, waiting until she feels Lexa sink into her, a pair of hands encircling around her waist.

“ _Right_ back.” She promises again in a whisper into soft wavy hair. “Stay here.” She urges and the brunette nods obediently. Clarke departs with a reassuring caress to the brunette’s cheek.

She slips through a small crack in the door taking care not to allow Titus to see Lexa sitting so alone and vulnerably on the bed before closing it behind her.

They walk down the corridor until they are far enough away from the room, so as to prevent the grounder from overhearing their conversation.

“She should not be here.” Titus says begrudgingly as they continue down the hall. “You should not have allowed her to.”

“She insisted on coming.” Clarke defends, standing straighter. “And you’re just as much to blame as I am. You could have told her no.” She points out, knowing she had won the argument. Titus would not have been able to bring himself to speak with Lexa, let alone reprimand her. Not after what he had done.

“It’s dangerous.” The man objects, narrowing his eyes. “You should have left her in the village.” They enter the elevator and the service guards grunt in the distance, raising the contraption.

“Why?” Clarke spits, knowing they are out of earshot. “Because of _you_? Do you plan on shooting her again?” She says snidely.

Titus grits his teeth. “That was an accident. The bullet was…”

“Meant for me.” Clarke scoffs. “Yeah, I know.” The blonde rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t make it any better.” She rebukes.

Titus pinches the bridge of his nose, both parties retaliating as the elevator jerks to a stop. The animosity between them had always been exhausting and at this point, neither of them wanted to deal with it. Clarke exhales slowly, calming her temper as the man in front of her does the same.

“She remembers it.” Clarke discloses. “You said she wouldn’t be able to remember me, yet she has been.”

He nods but surprisingly doesn’t seem even remotely alarmed about it. “Lexa was strong.” He comments now with a more level tone, hostility set aside. He pauses outside of the throne room, no doubt not waiting Ontari to overhear their conversation.

“Even before her Ascension Day, when the previous commander chose her, he praised that she was full of love.” Titus explains. “She had so much kindness to give, that’s why she was the one.”

Clarke nods. Of course she was. Lexa was so innately pure and full of love.

“Her willingness to bring peace to our people, to unify the clans, was absolutely unheard of.” He says with an unreadable expression, somewhere in between pride and frustration. “It was a new proposal.”

“She’s special.” Clarke understands and Titus nods in agreement.

“A new proposal, that was dangerous.” He continues. “As Flamekeeper, it is my job to protect the Flame. When Lexa ascended, I could see that her heart would be her greatest weakness. And I informed her as such.” The man explains.

“I told her that love was weakness; that to be commander is to be alone. She refused to believe me. When Lexa was just 13, she fell in love with young girl who attended to the kitchen. Her name was Costia.” The man describes and Clarke feels as though she has been intruding on something private. Lexa mentioned Costia in the past and Clarke knew that they were lovers. But she didn’t know the specifics. It almost feels inappropriate to be hearing the details.

“They were together for two years, all the while, Lexa ignored my teachings. She _insisted_ that love was strength and powerful. She disregarded all of my warnings and refused to accept my lessons until it was too late. Losing Costia had caused her a great deal of pain.” His eyes soften and Clarke realizes that Titus actually _did_ care about her. _Lexa_ , not just Heda. “But then she finally took my advice, closing herself off, focusing on her duty to her people.”

 “You had no right to…” Clarke is about to go off on him but Titus holds up a hand, halting her in the middle of her sentence.

“Still, after she met you…” His voice fades, looking off into the distance.

“After me, _what_?” Clarke prompts not bothering to hide her irritability.

“After she met you, I saw the signs.” He continues, straightening his spine. “You were disproving all of my teachings, overpowering every belief I had tried to instill in her. I knew that they would soon wear off again. I warned her that it could cause her pain, be a danger to both of you. Lexa wouldn’t listen.”

“Of course not.” Clarke nods, knowing fully well just how stubborn her lover could be. She fights back a smile.

“I took matters into my own hand,” Titus confesses. “I needed to protect her and our people.” He defends.

“Yeah.” She does her best to resist rolling her eyes. “And how did that work out?” She seethes with an intimidating glare of cold blue eyes.

“I did not call you here to argue.” He digresses with a frustrated sigh as he turns to the door, taking a final step as he pushes it open.

“Then why am I here?” She interrogates making no effort to hide her displeasure.

Ontari is waiting by the window; hand on the hilt of her sword as she gazes outwardly through the tattered curtains, overlooking the capital. A wave of nostalgia washes over her and she wonders if the feelings will ever lessen.

“Because,” Titus says, eyes trained on the Commander, though his body is angled towards Clarke. “I have most likely already chosen a winner for tomorrow’s competition.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, eyes narrowing in confusion. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” She argues.

“No.” Titus nods. “But I most likely will not have to.” He says all too calmly.

“Who?” Clarke can’t help the nervous thudding in her chest. She has a terrible feeling about this.

“If my predictions are correct,” Titus prefaces. “Either Lexa steps forward or the honor will fall to _Oktavia kom Skaikru_.”

“What?” Her eyes widen and Ontari finally shifts her attention towards the conversing two and Clarke can see the sympathy in her brown orbs.

Lexa’s prediction had been correct. But the former part of his prediction catches her off guard. Then again, grounder logic never made sense to her.

“Lexa isn’t a delegate.” She tries to argue.

“ _Should_ Octavia accept the position,” Ontari cuts in. “I have a feeling that she will allow Lexa to make the choice of whether or not she would like to succeed the throne.”

“No. She’s already…” Clarke doesn’t know what to say, or how to finish her sentence.

 _She did her time. She served her people_.

“But Lexa _can’t_ be _Heda_.” Is all she manages to mumble weakly. _Not again._ Her heart shouts.

“My final promise to Lexa was to never harm you again.” Titus says through clenched teeth and Ontari gives him a nod, encouraging him to continue.

Clarke can see how much it pains him to say, the vein in his neck straining as he speaks the words. It should make her feel better, but it doesn’t.

“The only way you will be protected is if Lexa or one of _your_ people becomes the next Commander.” He reasons levelly. “Otherwise, there is a very real risk of the other 12 clans rescinding their acceptance of _Skaikru_ joining the Coalition,” he notes, “as there is still unrest amongst our people.”

“Then who’s to say they won’t rebel against Octavia?” Clarke retorts, trying her best to remain push aside any personal feelings, but the complications involving the current state of the clans was maddening.

“Because Octavia is one of the few Sky People that is unanimously trusted amongst the grounders.” Ontari responds calmly, descending the stairs to come to Clarke’s side. “Now our problem becomes _Lexa’s_ choice. I have already spoken Octavia...”

“What?” She had no idea that all three of them were in close communication, let alone to this extent. She had always assumed that Octavia had just been following orders. She wasn’t aware that the warrior had also been executing some of her own.

“Like I said, she is one of the few Sky People that we trust.” Titus reiterates, reading the surprise on her face. It’s a backhanded comment, but she lets it slide. “Octavia and Ontari are both willing to allow Lexa the chance at reclaiming her position, should she chose to.”

“Why would you do that?” Clarke redirects her focus to the brunette. “You know it’s dangerous. Lexa _betrayed_ them. We all did.” She says to Ontari.

“Because, despite it all. Lexa was born for this.” The grounder says matter-of-factly. It sits uneasily in the pit of her stomach.

“I…” She can’t deny that Lexa innately had the skills to lead. But selfishly, she doesn’t want Lexa to accept. She wants Lexa as just _Lexa_. Not with the title looming over them. She already had her own burdening title to carry and Lexa was far heavier.

“Now,” Titus sighs. “Will you be the one to break the news to her, or shall we?” The man asks, leaning careful into the blonde’s personal space.  

Clarke swallows her feelings, pushing through steady her voice as she responds. “It should be me.” She finally says.

Titus accepts the decision stoically. “Dinner is in the great hall.” He returns with formality, straightening to his proper height.

Just as she turns to leave, Ontari grasps her arm, hand slipping to her elbow.

“Lexa love for you is strong enough to overcome the loss of the flame. _That_ is why she remembers.”

_Love is the most powerful weapon._

The impact of Lexa’s words finally hits her. _Hard._ It’s then that Clarke realizes Lexa loves two things: Clarke and her people. The problem? Clarke doesn’t know which one Lexa loves more.

She realizes why Titus wanted to warn her. He was doing what was promised, sparing her the hurt, the pain, the harm of having her heart broken again. The threat wasn’t Titus. It wasn’t Ontari, _Skaikru_ weapons, or a political uprising. The threat is Lexa; it’s the love of her life choosing her people over Clarke, disregarding her personal feelings for her feeling of being obligated to lead. Again.

Of course, this time, there would not be as many politics involved. They would still be allies. But they would not be lovers. They couldn’t. It makes her sick to her stomach.

She returns to her quarters where Lexa is waiting for her, worry etched across her features. She picks up on Clarke’s somber expression immediately.

“Clarke?” Lexa asks warily. She doesn’t ask what’s wrong. She knows something is. She just waits patiently for Clarke to open up, should she choose to. Clarke considers the option of just not telling Lexa at all. She can feel those emerald orbs focused on her, studying her with mild curiosity and extreme concern.

If today was the last day for Lexa to be hers, and only hers, to not belong to anybody but Clarke Griffin, then she was going to make the most of it. She forces a smile, shaking her head gently and Lexa rescinds.

“Everything’s fine.” She lies. The corner of the brunette’s mouth twitches and Clarke knows she’s resisting the urge to call her out on her bluff. But she’s respectful enough to nod, accepting that Clarke is simply not ready.

“Dinner is in the great hall.” She informs and Lexa follows her wordlessly out of the room.

The meal is awkward to say the least, filled with tense, cautious eyes, and guarded expressions. When they settle at the table, Clarke can see the way Lexa sits a bit straighter, sensing that all eyes are on her. She gives a poised nod to each person when they accidently make eye contact, the opposite party always tearing their gaze away nervously from pensive green eyes.

They all sit uncomfortably blanketed under a looming tension that hovered over the advisor and the ex-commander. Lexa hasn’t said a word to him, but as Clarke sits by her side, she can see the gears turning in her mind. Her eyes narrow, jaw clenches, with her grip on her chalice tightening as the seconds drag by. Something’s brewing. They all feel it. And she’s just waiting for the moment for Lexa to unleash it onto them. When Titus clears his throat, ready to take the brute of her wrath, Clarke grips her chair in preparation.

“Lexa.” he says carefully. It’s ironically comforting for Clarke to watch the way he seems to squirm under Lexa’s gaze. Who could blame him though? The brunette's eyes could pierce like an arrow.

The grounder raises her chin confidently, allowing her silence to speak for her. Clarke knows that she’s challenging him, as she had during the many confrontations she had witnessed when she had been in Polis before. Titus didn’t particularly like that Clarke had been so easily welcomed into their meetings, especially when it involved private or political matters, but Lexa had trusted Clarke enough to allow her in. And as always, Titus caves.

“Is there something you wish to discuss?” he says as evenly as he can, but Clarke can see the beads of sweat on his brow. She knows it’s not from the creeping heat of summer’s approach, or the warm meal in front of them.

“Titus,” Lexa feigns ignorance, her tone terrifyingly calm. “You are _Fleimkepa_ , are you not?”

He gives a hesitant nod. Ontari looks nervously at Clarke, who returns her own wary expression as the two lock eyes in a stare down.

“And your job is to attend to the needs of the Flame?” Lexa prompts cooly.

“That is correct.” Titus confirms.

“You were my advisor during my time as the commander.” The girl clarifies.

“Yes.” He affirms, swallowing.

“It was your job to teach me lessons.” Lexa continues to string him along.

“Correct.” His eyes shift nervously.

“And did that include shooting at Clarke?” Her voice is low and daring. And Titus’s eyes widen while Ontari’s jaw drops open. There’s a throbbing in Clarke’s chest as her heart pounds erratically.

“I… I… ” He stutters.

_Lexa knew._

“Tell me, Titus, were you somehow involved with Costia’s demise as well?” She finally barks, eyes turbulent and wild.

“No, _Heda_! I would never.” The title slips and Ontari shrinks in her seat, the blonde similarly shifting uncomfortably in her own chair.

“Then why did you attack Clarke?” Lexa provokes.

“Because you really loved her. Clarke,” Titus looks tentatively at the blonde. “Was different. She changed things.”

Lexa nods. “How?” She toys, chin tilted upward in a practiced manner.

Titus looks almost ashamed as he bows his head. “She elevates herself.” He manages to say, unable to meet Lexa’s gaze. Clarke doesn’t understand what he means by it, but the brunette seems incredibly satisfied with his confession.

“I want to participate in the competition.” The brunette says almost smugly and Clarke’s fork clatters to the ground. Nobody moves.

“What are you doing?” Clarke finally asks. She didn’t even get to break the news to Lexa before the brunette voluntarily put herself out there, offering herself up on a silver platter. _Damn it, Lexa._

But the grounder keeps her gaze unwavering and focused ahead at the others in attendance.

“Lexa, now is not the time to…” Titus tries to interrupt, but Lexa holds up her hand, commanding the room into silence.

“Ontari,” She turns her attention to the brunette who had been watching the entire scene unfurl with fretful brown eyes. “ _You_ are still _Heda_ , do _you_ have any objections?”

She shakes her head. “No, Lexa.” she denies.

“Good.” The green-eyed girl nods and Clarke feels sick to her stomach.

The rest of the dinner is spent in silent.

\---

“What are you trying to prove?” The blonde hisses as she storms after Lexa when they retire back to her room for the night. “Do you _really_ want this?” Her fists shake at her sides and Lexa takes them in her hands, smoothing thumb over Clarke’s knuckles in a soothing manner. She had explained that Octavia was willing to give Lexa the chance at _Heda_ without having to go through the competition. Lexa still wasn’t 100%, and Clarke didn’t want to risk it. She feels her eyes sting at the though.

The stone cold expression the brunette had been sporting for the entirety of the meal quickly peels away and her eyes soften as they meet Clarke’s worried blue ones.

“I want my people to know that you are not my weakness, but that you are my _strength_. And always will be.” The brunette promises. “I will prove it. And I will prove it fairly.”

She should feel flattered. She should launch herself into Lexa’s arms, but she can’t. Instead, she’s frozen in place, less proud and more so terrified.

“You are the reason I am still here, and that I can remember who I was.” Lexa continues gently.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things.” She remembers Bellamy originally telling her. It tastes different coming from her own mouth. She treats it as such: something different in hopes that Lexa will understand. You are not obligated to be Commander anymore.

She hopes that Lexa will set aside the feeling that her people are still her main responsibility. It’s selfish and purely an act of heart and emotion over head and logic. But Clarke puts her feelings aside, along with the plummeting feeling of her stomach. If this is what Lexa wants, she couldn’t stand in her way.

“How are your stitches?” She asks instead. If Lexa was going to compete, she would need to be in optimal shape.

“Don’t worry.” Lexa gives her the gentlest of smiles. “They’re healing, Clarke.” She says, eyes falling to the blonde’s lips as she breathes out the name. It sounds like home and she knows they aren’t talking about the wound.

They prepare for bed, taking turns washing up before changing into the nightgowns that the handmaidens had provided for them. Clarke is already dressed when Lexa returns, her back to Clarke as she dresses carefully.

As the brunette raises her arms over her head, slipping her tunic off to replace it with the gown, the blonde can’t help but reach out, fingers tracing over the tattoos across her back. Goosebumps arise across her skin, and Clarke recoils just as the gown slips over the girl’s toned frame, flowing to the floor. She retreats to the bed without a word as Lexa follows carefully, slipping under the furs, lying just a few inches from Clarke.

In the dimly lit room, Lexa looks ethereal, hair draped over her shoulder as her green eyes sparkle against the candlelight. Clarke is absolutely enchanted.

When she can no longer starve of the need to touch, to _feel_ her, Clarke inches forward, running the tips of her fingers across the pattern on Lexa’s forearm, the skin peeking out as her arm rests atop the blankets.

More goosebumps form across her skin and Clarke feels them rising across her own at the way Lexa’s green eyes meet hers. Lexa releases a shaky breath as porcelain fingertips travel up and across the brunette’s collarbone, scoping out her jawline, to then finally stop at her baby hairs. Clarke twirls them gently between two fingers before smoothing them down again.

“What are you doing?” Lexa inquires, scrunches her brow and tilting her head. A strand of hair falls as she does and Clarke tucks it back into place, resuming with her fingertips now tracing over her hairline.

“Remembering.” Clarke confesses, trying to commit this to memory. It could be their last time seeing each other. She pushes through the pain, fighting back tears. She buries the troubling feeling in her chest, forcing herself to smile for Lexa’s sake.

“Me too.” Lexa says as she leans forward, kissing her lips gently.

It’s comforting and Clarke shifts closer, tucking herself into the brunette’s frame. She inhales the girl, overloading her senses with Lexa until she inevitably falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a sidenote, I'm going to try to not to read as many of the comments on this fic about Lexa vs. Octavia as Heda. They are partially why it's taken me so long to finish the story. While I appreciate the feedback, it also hinders me from writing what I originally planned. I find myself constantly questioning my plot choices and trying to appease every single reader. I now realize that is pretty much impossible. I hope you all still enjoy the story anyway. If not, I'm sorry.


	27. The Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is overwhelmed with worry and emotions run haywire.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Children of War by Nick Murray

_Clarke’s stomach is in knots as she stands stiffly on the sidelines with the brunette’s headpiece clenched desperately in her grasp. She can’t breathe. It’s been too long since Lexa had moved._

_“Get up.” She silently pleads to the grounder. She begs for Lexa to swing her body around, using her legs to overthrow her opponent as she had with Roan. The mass of shadowy figures closes in as Octavia steps forward from the group, towering over her lover’s limp body, a sword raised above Lexa’s chest. It’s already bloody, red liquid dripping down the blade._

_A puddle is quickly pooling around Lexa’s body as the group moves forward, and she catches the glimmer of green fading as Lexa’s eyes fall closed. And then the horn sounds, signifying the end of the battle. Victory drums pound in her chest. She’s lost._

_“Lexa.” She whimpers. “No.” The tears streak down her face as her knees grow weak, buckling under her as she collapses the ground._

_“Lexa!” She cries. It’s swept away amongst the cheering as the crowd rushes forward to congratulate the new commander. She’s unable to move as attendants approach to clear the spent body out of the arena. Clarke stays frozen. Why can’t she follow? She tries desperately to maneuver her legs, but she’s stuck._

_She finally finds her voice only after the men have carried the body off._

_“Lexa!” She calls out, louder and more desperate with each shattered cry until her vision closes in on a tunnel of white._

She opens her eyes, waking with two strong arms holding her closely.

“It’s okay.” Lexa soothes, smoothing down the blonde’s hair. “Clarke, I’m okay.” The brunette assures. “I am here, Clarke.” A pair of soft, yet concerned green eyes meet hers.

“Lexa?” She blinks, clinging her hand around the grounder’s forearm like a vice. _It had been a dream. No, a nightmare._

“Don’t leave me.” Clarke requests, completely devastated. “I can’t…” Her voice cracks. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You have not lost me, Clarke.” Lexa reassures, brushing her thumb against Clarke’s cheek. She caresses the rise of her cheekbone comfortingly. “But I must do this for my people.”

The blonde purses her lips, pulling away from the brunette. The words hurt, even though she knows they’re true.

Lexa sighs. “Come, we should eat. The competition will be stating soon.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Clarke objects, lingering behind in the furs while Lexa moves to get dressed.

She turns sadly, nodding, before going to the wardrobe to change. She opens the door, picking out a black tunic and dark pants that she tucks into her boots, lacing them skillfully. When she stands, her eyes meet Clarke’s in the mirror.

“Will I see you at the arena?” Lexa asks the reflection.

Clarke’s eyes water as she nods, turning before Lexa can see the tears fall. She probably knows, as it takes a moment for her to shut the doors of the wardrobe and even longer for the sound of footsteps to begin. Eventually they grow more distant until the latch of the bedroom door clicks open then closed again.

The blonde sits alone, bringing the furs that Lexa had been lying under to her chest, wrapping herself in them. She buries her face in the soft material, allowing the wisps of hair to tickle her skin. They’re meant to keep her warm, yet she feels cold inside.

Lexa, self-sacrificing person that she was, was going to fight, simply to prove to her people that Clarke was a source of strength. It’s so _damn_ noble. Clarke knows not to expect anything less from the grounder, and despite her frustrations, she knows this is the right thing to do.

This fight wasn’t for Lexa, the blonde realizes. _It was for her._

“Lexa!” She shouts, racing down the hall after the brunette. “Lexa, wait!” She cries catching up to the brunette who had since stopped in her tracks after hearing her name fall urgently from the blonde’s lips.

Lexa’s jaw is clenched, eyes brewing. The rims are red and Clarke tumbles into her, arms circling around her waist. She doesn’t care what guards may be watching or who may see.

“Have you changed your mind?” Lexa asks carefully.

“Have _you?_ ” The blonde retorts, lifting her head from where her forehead rest against the brunette’s collarbones. She knows her efforts are useless.

“Clarke,” Lexa says gently. “I…” She going to fend her choice, but Clarke cuts her off.

“I know.” She pulls Lexa into her, squeezing tightly. She needs this. The brunette silently snakes her arms the blonde’s shoulder, face buried into the girl’s neck. “I know.” Clarke whispers again feeling the brunette hair against her face. She starts to tremble and Lexa pulls back so that she can get a good look at the Clarke, waiting until blue eyes meet hers.

“I’ll be okay.” Lexa says as she rub Clarke’s back calmingly.

“How can you be so sure?” The blonde bites back, though her voice is more distressed than intimidating.

“I can’t, but it must be done.” Lexa says. “I will die with honor, trying to protect you.” She promises.

The blonde nods solemnly.

They eat breakfast at a quiet table, all in attendance highly distracted with the approach of the day’s events. Clarke’s mind is racing. Lexa sits beside her, chewing her food slowly, leaving the majority on the plate.

“You’ll need your strength.” Clarke says, pushing aside her own uneasiness. She places a bit of bread and cheese from her own plate onto the grounder’s and Lexa nibbles it obediently. When they can no longer stomach the remainder of their breakfast, the group prepares to leave.

Ontari places the red sash on her side and the shoulder guard rests in its place. Lexa eyes the status symbol carefully and swallows. Clarke knows it’s hard for her to take. The brunette averts her eyes, focusing on dressing herself in a thin coat of armor.

“ _Wortat_?” Lexa asks one of the handmaidens helping her prepare. The women disappears into the next room, returning with a small container of black war paint.

She hands it to the brunette with a bow.

“ _Mochof_.” Lexa nods, turning her attention to Clarke. The blonde steps forward, taking the container from the brunette’s hands. She unscrews the cap, dipping her finger carefully into the dark liquid. Lexa adjusts her position to allow Clarke a better angle to help apply the makeup.

Their faces are just inches apart and Clarke moves with precision as Lexa’s eyes flutter shut. She covers the girl’s eyelids first, moving outward to her hairline, finally streaking down her cheeks.

“Done.” Clarke whispers a breath against the brunette’s plump lips. When emerald orbs are revealed again, contrasting dramatically against the darkness of her skin, it takes Clarke a great deal of effort to resist the temptation to kiss the brunette in front of the attendants and political leaders.

All she wants is one last kiss.

As the morning light rises into the sky, the pair journey to the arena with Titus and Ontari in the lead. Though they are surrounded by guards, the advisor still hands Clarke a gun for safety and the blonde takes it in her hand hesitantly. She’s pretty sure it was the gun he initially used on her and the whole thing seems ironic.

Upon their arrival, Clarke can see that the contestants are beginning to line up as prospectors take their seats, gathering around the outer ring of the arena.

“ _Ogud_?” Ontari asks, turning to Lexa.

“Ready.” The brunette confirms.

“Be careful.” Clarke pleads as the brunette nods.

“You undermine my abilities.” Lexa says. Her words are cocky, but her eyes are apprehensive. Clarke offers an encouraging smile, though she’s certain it doesn’t come across as such. The brunette gives her a nod anyway and leaves to join the others in the line-up of contenders, standing in place between two large men, one from   _Sankru_  and the other from the _Azegeda_ , she can tell by the scars on his face.

She counts the contenders as they wait in line. Only 13, including Lexa, one less than she had expected.

When the crowd realizes just exactly _who_ has joined the competition, the arena goes silent. Though her back is to them, Lexa still emanates a certain air about her. They _know_ it’s her.

Murmurs start to grow and Ontari takes it as her cue to begin with the opening remarks.

“Citizens, families, and friends.” She greets from the raised stage on the side of the arena. “My people, today is the day in which my reign as Commander will end. It is for the benefit of our people and out of respect for you that I step down from my position as your leader to make way for another _bruna Heda._ This new successor must not only survive, but accelerate in all areas of the competition. This is more than just a test of strength. It is not for prestige or power.”

Clarke takes a moment to survey the competitors. It’s clear who’s here for brawn alone and who is here for power.

“This is a competition with a goal, and the reward is more than just a title, but a great responsibility and sacrifice.” Ontari continues.

She watches the back of Lexa’s head rise and fall in a nod, her frame, petite compared to the muscular figures that flank her on both sides. 

“The contenders you see before you were chosen as the most promising of their clans by the highest ranking officials of their own people.” The leader describes. “ _Fleimkepa_ ,” she gestures to Titus and he approaches at her side to take over.

“I have served many commanders in my time, some good and some great.” His eyes flicker to Lexa. “As such, it will be up to my discretion to choose who will become the next Commander. _Heda_ must understand and embody three things; _uf, noun, fiyane.”_  

_Strength, wisdom, compassion._

“The competition will begin with combat.” The man explains. “Each delegate will be randomly paired with one another and their match will end when one party is no longer able to fight. You may all begin with your weapon of choice. All matches following will utilize the weapon of the winning opponent’s choosing. Should there be two winners, the decision will come this.” He holds up two sticks of varying lengths.

The rest of the rules are outlined briefly before the challengers are sent to take a seat at the area just adjacent to the side of the stage. It’s been allocated for the competitors, sectioned off and accompanied by a table filled with a variety of arranged weaponry.

Clarke is relieved to find that the first two matches involve a man from the _Ouskejonkru_. The Blue Cliff clansman is tall and built. He is paired against an agile, much smaller but much quicker man from the Delfikru. The brute man takes a beating in the first round, falling under his own weight as a spear is plunged into his chest. She can hear the gush of blood as it spurs from his body. Clarke feels sick.

The second man is from _Trishanakru_ , who simply pins his fallen opponent to the ground, after ridding him of his arrows, trapping his throat between the sole of his shoe and the hard concrete. He leans his weight onto his rival and the squirming body stills within seconds, color draining from his sunken eyes.

Two down, eleven to go. Clarke feels her stomach start to knot as the ground of the arena grows increasingly more red, painted with the splatter of the blood of the fallen.

Octavia’s name is called next and Clarke’s footing wavers. She feels a hand steady her, turning in surprise to find Indra standing at her side, face unperturbed by the announcement.

She’s paired with a man, large, but not as gigantic as the one from the _Sankru_. He’s clumsy on his feet built for strength and power, but not speed. The first few attacks are matched in terms of swiftness and ability, the clanking of metal echoing throughout the stadium.

But Octavia is petite and he soon is able to knock her down. He bests her sword, bending when she should have dodged left, or catching her just before she’s able to spin her body away. He topples her repeatedly, seemingly amused by the brunette as she stands back up each time. She tries her best to dodge the majority of his blows, but he still manages some powerful hits to the point that Octavia’s left eye is bruised, and Clarke can see her friend is growing more exhausted as the match wears on. She continues to persist, consistently taking the punches, blocking the sword attacks with her sabre. He beats her around like a rag doll, toying with her for as long as he can, but Octavia refuses to concede.

Eventually, the brunette’s challenger gives her small body a particularly harsh and Octavia falls on her hands and knees, eyes narrowed angrily at the man who stands smugly in front of her.

 _“Get smacked down, get back up!”_ Lincoln shouts from the sidelines.

The warrior nods in her supporter’s direction, using the distraction to her advantage. The desert man has momentarily turned to see where the voice had come from and Octavia takes her shot, striking the man’s leg with her sabre. Instead of finishing off the job with a swift slash across the throat, she kicks his weapon from his hand, strategically placing the edge of her own blade against his wrist, the other, under the weight of her boot. Any movement more than a breath from him would cause the man to slice his vein open until he bleeds himself dry. The victory horn sounds.

“Lexa taught her that.” Indra comments. “I recognize the strategy.” The general notes.

Clarke can only nod, relief washing over her. Octavia scurries off the center, settling back on the bench to attend to her wounds.

Two more rounds pass, and two more competitors fall, a man from _Podakru_ and a woman from _Ingranronakru,_ accompanied with the sound of the clattering metal of their weapons colliding with the ground and the crack of a skull. The blonde resists the urge to cringe.  

Then Lexa’s name is called and the weight in Clarke’s stomach suddenly grows from a small rock to a full-on boulder. Octavia catches her eye from where she’s watching on the bench. She offers her support with a small smile as Clarke swallows. _Hard_.

Lexa surveys her opponent, then her weaponry options.

She’s been paired with a delegate from the Ice Nation and Clarke’s eyes immediately seek out for Ontari’s. The leader’s expression is mute and unreadable; a sense of practiced of neutrality for the sake of the people.

The horn sounds, signaling the beginning of the battle and Clarke’s heart rate increases exponentially.

The _Azgeda_ man has a pair of dual swords in both hands and does Lexa. Clarke realizes they must have the same combat strategy and swordsmanship skills. It makes her uneasy knowing that Lexa has no advantage over the man in terms of her weaponry or tricks.

The brunette gives Clarke a quick glance, as if to assure her, before the Ice Nation delegate charges towards her. Lexa sidesteps him easily and he fumbles, trying to regain his balance. Clarke’s throat goes dry.

They dance around one another, but eventually Lexa still proves herself to be victorious. The man surrenders with a blade to his neck. Clarke’s shoulders fall slightly, only to tense, back stiffened just a moment later when the brunette’s name is immediately drawn again.

She looks over at Lexa with sapphire concern. She has had no time to rest in between matches while her opponent, on the other hand, has not fought up to this point. He glares venomously at Lexa, then at Clarke as he makes his way to the weaponry table. Clarke gets the sickest of feelings as the round begins.

Lexa continues to use her swords as opposed to her competition, who swings his arms wildly thrusting an enormous hammer, with spikes littered across the surface, in a blinded fit of rage. He must be a member of _Yujleda_ , Clarke decides. They, in particular, had not taken the news of the City very well.

He’s strong and quick, definitely a much fairer match to Lexa, but he’s too unfocused due to his emotions. He lets his anger take over him as he makes a particularly forceful swing. Lexa dodges it, but one spoke still ends up attacking the brunette’s side. She hears the snag of the fabric tearing, freezing as red spills from Lexa’s stomach. It’s relatively close to her stitches and the brunette clenches her jaw, straightening as she resets herself to block the next blow. Clarke’s breath gets caught in her throat and the world starts spinning.

To everyone’s surprise, instead of charging towards the brunette, the Broadleaf man veers in the complete opposite direction towards the crowd. It takes a minute for Clarke to process that he’s headed straight for her and she does her best to doge his advances, reaching for her gun. Unfortunately, she’s too slow to react, stunned by the initial shock of the attack. The crowd scatters as her body is pushed and trampled under the masses.

She feels Indra and Lincoln pulling her up to her feet, tugging her away. Her mind goes blank. And then she catches a flash of wild brown braids and a piercing war cry powers through the air. The next thing she sees is Lexa, chest heaving and the man falls forward, duel swords plunged into his back and skull. The giant frame collapses at her feet, blood pooling from the wounds. His wide-eyed body is dragged away and Titus announces that the _Yujleda_ clan has been disqualified, as if it wasn’t obvious.

Clarke watches, unable to help, as Lexa hobbles off to the benches to await the next round. The crowd reassembles and the competition resumes. Instead of scrutinizing the matches, Clarke’s eyes are focused on Lexa and her friend.

Octavia sits at the brunette’s side and is wrapping at Lexa’s wounds, despite her own injuries causing her pain. She winces when her wrist rotates a certain direction, but she doesn’t stop. The rest of the competitors look on, not bothering to come to the aid of their opponents.

As much as it hurts, Clarke gets it. It makes sense and she understands not wanting to help your enemies. So when Octavia finishes wrapping Lexa’s torso, the blonde is evermore grateful that at least Octavia is there.

Another handful of rounds pass by and the ground has become completely covered in blood. More delegates die, others concede, most likely preferring to be killed out of shame by their own people than in front of the masses.

Octavia’s name is called again. She takes down a Shadow Valley man, who’d already been exhausted from three consecutive rounds. She strikes him down with precision and soon he falls to the ground.

She’s lucky.

Lexa, is not.

Her lover is paired with the largest man there. He’s a warrior from _Boudalankru_ , the Rock Line people, built like a rock too, both fit in agility and strength. To this point, he remains undefeated.

“Go on, _Heda.”_ He spits the word with dripping malice. “I’ll let you choose.” He says arrogantly, eyes narrowed bitterly. There’s a scar across his left eye, the pupil white and unfocused.

_There’s no way._

Lexa is already wounded, making her extremely vulnerable. This man didn’t even have a scratch on him. Clarke should know not to doubt her lover’s fighting ability, but the odds weren’t looking very favorable.

Lexa waits for a while, sizing up the haughty man before striding towards Clarke, holding out a hand.

“Me?” Clarke’s eyes widen. She knows Lexa said she was her strength, but the blonde herself was in no way a weapon, nor able to fight.

“No.” Lexa smirks, in spite of the pain in her side, before shaking her head as she eyes Clarke’s hips. It takes a moment before she processes exactly what the brunette is requesting.

Clarke stiffens, realization dawning over her. “But Lexa…” Her jaw drops.

Lexa was willing about to place the very weapon that had ended her life in her hands, allocating it as her weapon of choice, despite never having operated it, nor knowing the accuracy of her aim. Sure, Lexa was smart, but was she mentally ready to do something of this caliber?

“Do you trust me?” The brunette cuts off, seeming to sense her hesitance.

“Yes.” Clarke nods reluctantly.

“And I trust you.” Lexa assures, green eyes filled with determination and drive.

The blonde’s hand flicks the safety on the gun, passing it over to the grounder. Lexa brushes her fingers over Clarke’s as she takes the weapon, an attempt in physical assurance before she holds it over her head, displaying it for the crowd to see. The audience gasps. No grounder, to their knowledge, would ever touch the weapon of the Mountain Men and _Skaikru_. It was unheard of, the idea of it being plagued.

But Lexa continues to hold the weapon in the air proudly. It’s a show of power. In grounder culture, the superstition was that guns cause horribly cursed deaths. But Clarke, Commander of Death, _Wanheda_ , possessed a sense of power over that. Handing the gun to Lexa was the perfect exhibit of her sharing that strength.

 _Nia’s strength is not endowed. Thanks to you, Lexa’s strength is._ Clarke recalls Titus telling her.

The blonde gives her a small nod of encouragement, fears temporarily set aside.

“The weapon of our people is a weapon of our allies.” Lexa announces to the crowd. There’s a low mumble amongst the arena.

The Rock Line man, conflicted, raises his own spear in defense but Lexa is quick to see that he has no idea what to do. It had been strategic.

The brunette, knowing that she had been the weaker in terms of physical state had instead engaged in a tactful match of psychological warfare. She could fire at any moment, though Clarke knows Lexa wouldn’t unless it was completely necessary. Still, her opponent doesn’t know that and Clarke can see the beads of sweat collect at his brow and upper lip as the two competitors circle one another. They play chicken until the mental strain finally gets to him. He drops his daggers in surrender.

The mighty continue to fall and the greatest of minds grow weary as the sun begins to slip over the horizon. Finally, the _Louwoda Kliron_ is defeated and two opponents are left. Clarke watches the paired brunettes rise from their seats on bench, insides twisting nauseatingly.

Octavia looks uneasily at Lexa, but the older girl’s face is stable and strong as she offers a nod in respect.

“Good luck.” Octavia says, returning the gesture.

“You too.” Lexa echoes.

They draw straws to decide the final weapon. It goes to Octavia and Clarke is certain it will be the sabre. Octavia had been using it throughout the competition, and the two prepare their weapons.

The horn sounds and Clarke does her best not to throw up right then. The two girls step cautiously towards one another, swords drawn in defensive stance.

The clash of metal rings out against the sounds of their exertion. The match goes on for what seems like hours, the sun has completely cascaded the horizon and the stadium has since been dimly lit by a series of guards, torches in hand raised up to the sky. Across the arena, a few large fire pits have also been lit to provide warmth and light.

It feels ever colder. Some spectators have cleared out to take their children home to retire for the evening, but the majority still remains captivated.

More clanking.

More dodging.

More grunts and groans.

 Clarke’s nerves and stomach have gone numb by this point, every attack blurring into the previous, fading into the next. Her focus is swimming as she tries to follow. It seems as though the fighting will never end, each girl allowing the other an equal effort, not wanting to overpower the other. She wonders if and when the crowd might catch on.

Eventually the two stand nose to nose, swords locked in an even push and pull. The crowd begins to cheer.

“Fight!” They shout enthusiastically.

_No._

“Fight!” They root louder.

_It’s over._

“Fight!” The crowd continues to pressure.

Lexa’s eyes narrow and Octavia nods. The blonde reads both of the brunettes’ body language. She knows what’s going to happen.

Within seconds they drop swords at the same time, taking a step away from each other.

The audience goes insane.

“Fight!” They scream.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” They persistently chant.

The warriors continue to walk away from the arena, ignoring the uproar directed at them and instead walking to the edge of the stage, waiting expectantly for Titus to speak. He grimaces, raising a hand to silence the crowd. It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to get the people to quiet, and a few guards have to hold some audience members back from storming the arena themselves.

“Both parties have proven their worth today,” The man addresses. “They have exhibited their understanding of wisdom, compassion, and strength.” He compliments, looking at both girls. Some members of the crowd make noises of protest, but he ceases them again with a gesture to the guards, who step forward in warning. The protestors silence again.

“But only the greatest of all of those participating today should be given the honor of the role of the next commander.” Titus continues and the spectators buzz in excitement

“My decision has been made.” He looks fondly at Lexa and the brunette raises her head with dignity. She glances sideways to Clarke with a proud smirk before returning her attention back to the advisor.

Clarke lets her emotions get the best of her and flees; broken heart left shattered on the ground of the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers are fun, right? If you didn't listen to the soundtrack for this chapter, I highly recommend that you do. The music is epic!


	28. The Gedanesheda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets a little closure. Lexa gets a little closer.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Ocean Wide by The Afters

It’s a somewhat selfish act, Clarke knows, groaning in frustration as she strides towards the capital. The Earth is soft beneath her feet, air fresh and inviting, yet her footsteps are heavy and her heart even heavier. Everything feels wrong.

When she reaches the inner limits of the city, the streets around her are bare, merchant stalls empty and disserted, seeing as the majority of its citizens and those of the neighboring clans are still gathered at the arena.  She sighs, trying to imagine it; the upward tilt of Lexa’s head as she stands with pride, chin jutting out as she’s bowed to by the many. She pictures the look of contentment on Titus’ face as Lexa is revered by the crowd. She envisions all the relief washing over Ontari once she realizes they are no longer to be burdened with the guilt of what they had done to the City.

It makes her dizzy, insides of her scorching with ache. She runs that much faster, chest heaving that much harder as she ducks through the alleys to her final destination. She ascends the tower with a weight pressed against her ribs, yearning for all the things that could have been.

Once back in her bedroom, the blonde takes the small sack of clothes that she had been given in her trembling hands, stuffing the rest of her belongings into it as she packs up her things. She needs to leave. Being in Polis had never felt so unbearable. Lexa was going to take command again and Clarke would only stand in her way. She couldn’t do that to her. Not again.

She should put something out for Lexa, indicating her departure, the blonde reasons to herself. At least then, she’ll know that Clarke had returned back to Arkadia.

She shuffles through the drawers hoping that her art supplies that Lexa had gifted her with were still somewhere within room. When she finds a small shred of paper and some charcoal, she sketches a burning candle and the silhouette of Arkadia; the arch in the structure towering over the trees in the surrounding areas on the page. It’s not her best work, but she isn’t exactly in the best state of mind. Her hands tremble as she sketches out each line. She bits the inside of her cheek to prevent any tears from falling and smearing the illustration.

Just before the blonde is able to slip away, there’s a knock on the door. She freezes, hands stiffly holding the sheet of paper between her fingers. Clarke stands still, not making a sound in hopes that the silence may drive the visitor away and discourage them from thinking that someone was actually in the room. She places the drawing carefully on the side table just as the door handle turns slowly.

In the entryway stands the brunette, brows furled in confusion, scanning the blonde’s face for any indication as to why she had fled. Clarke does her best to maintain a neutral expression, not wanting her mood to sour Lexa’s glory. 

“What are you doing back?” She asks, voice not quite as strong as she would have liked.

“We must change for the official ceremony”. The brunette says matter-of-factly. Her voice is level and calm, a complete contrast from how the blonde feels. Clarke wants to be angry. She feels hurt, but she also understands. Lexa was a leader, a characteristic that innately possessed within her. But for Clarke’s own selfish and completely personal reasons, she desperately wished for things to have ended differently. In a few hours, their story would start back over, repeating just as it had begun with Clarke on her way back to Arkadia while Lexa attended to her duties as _Heda._  There would be a moment of peace within their people and a lifetime of turbulence within Clarke’s heart.

“Oh, right.” The blonde responds awkwardly. “Of course. That makes sense.” She diverts her eyes to focus on a frayed thread of carpet. She can tell that Lexa is studying her, reading into her abnormal behavior. Clarke feels herself growing smaller under the intensity of her emerald gaze, sensing the focus  of Lexa’s scrutiny drift down to her arm, narrowing in on the bag clasped in her hand. She glances up quickly, accidentally locking eyes. Her eyes water.

Lexa’s shoulders stiffen and Clarke immediately feels a tremendous pang of guilty. The brunette takes a step forward, finally crossing into the room with a flex of her jaw. The blonde knows it must be due to her wrappings. Octavia had done a good job, but she wasn’t exactly a medical expert.

“Let me take care of that for you.” The blonde offers, sniffing as she drops the weight in her hands and making her way to the wardrobe to retrieve an arrangement of clean fabric pieces before gathering a bowl of water to help wash away some of the remnants of battle caked upon the brunette’s body.

Lexa nods silently, allowing the blonde to slowly remove her armor, taking care not to bump or irritate her side as she does so.

Clarke uses the first cloth to gently wipe the war paint from Lexa’s face, tenderly cupping her cheek with her right hand as her left caresses over her blackened cheekbone until smooth tan skin emerges through the cloudy grey haze.

Once Lexa’s complexion is visible and clear again, Clarke leads the brunette to the bed by both hands, waiting until Lexa sits against the edge of it. A wave of nostalgia washes over her and she feels Lexa’s gaze soften, knowing that the brunette feels it too. The last time they had been in this position was under much different circumstances, but still just as intimate. She takes her time unbuckling the belts and untying the fastenings in Lexa’s clothing until her jacket hangs loosely over her shoulders, edges of her shirt pushed up.

“Lie back.” Clarke instructs. Lexa nods quietly and the blonde can’t help but brush her thumb over the girl’s ribcage as she tends to the gash where Lexa had been cut, freshly cut wound  flanking the right side of her abdomen.

The two remain quiet as she works, the only sound between them being the occasional dripping of water as Clarke wrings out the cloth in the now murky water.

“I’ll be right back.” The blonde frowns at the bowl. She goes back to switch the liquid, returning to Lexa sitting up slightly.

“Lie down, Lexa.” Clarke instructs again, knowing that Lexa was never really the most cooperative of patients. She finishes cleaning the area, dressing the wound with a set of new bandages.

“Better?” She asks, fingers trailing lightly over the wrapping. Lexa nods, adjusting her shirt back down and retying the loose pieces.

They return to another onset of silence.

“Do you know what ‘ _nowe’_ means in _Trigedasleng_?” Lexa asks calmly. Even though her voice is soft, the sudden sound, breaking the silence startles her. Blue eyes shoot up to meet unreadable green.

Clarke shakes her head.

“It means ‘never’, Clarke.” Lexa explains lightly. She waits for the blonde to process the significance of what she is trying to convey. “Do you remember?”

Clarke swallows, nodding. She thought they were going to die. Honestly, it was quite possible and they totally could have, had it not been for her own determination and stubbornness. She wasn’t going to leave the most influential grounder leader to die in a cage with a rampant animal. It may have been a strategic political move at the time, but Clarke never regretted it.

_Leave me. Lexa had instructed when the gorilla had firmly grasped her by the ankle._

_No way .Clarke objects, refusing to warrior’s instructions. She takes her mark, firing a round of gunshots just over the brunette’s struggling body. She pulls the girl along as they scramble to make their escape. The impact of the fall made her knees grow weak, the injured Commander leaning against her, even more so._

When the girl detects the realization flash across her face, her lips twitches slightly, waiting for Clarke to finally speak.

“No way.” Clarke whispers. “Never.” Her fingers tremble as she refastens the ties of Lexa’s shirt. It sounds exactly the same, and has an identical pronunciation. Most of all, their definitions coincide, entwining with similar meanings.

“So why are you leaving, Clarke?” Lexa emphasizes the blonde’s name with a soft click. She directs her eyes over to the sack by the edge of the bed and the blonde’s face falls.  

She feels _so_ guilty for running, but she doesn’t want this to hurt anymore.

Before she can come up with any sort of apology, Lexa speaks again, taking the cloth gripped in the blonde’s tensed hand, setting it aside so that she can wrap both of her own around Clarke’s smaller one.

“I did not accept the position, Clarke.” Lexa divulges, slender fingers brushing over the blonde’s knuckles.

“You… you didn’t?” Clarke is shocked.

“No.” She shakes her head, calloused hands still tracing patterns on her skin. “But I will be advising Octavia, along with Ontari and Titus to help her in her reign.” She explains. “A new political arrangement is to be discussed after the ceremonial dinner. Had you stayed for the entirety of the competition, you would have known this.” The girl berates, though her eyes are more sad than angered.

Clarke swallows her apology, wrapping her arms around the brunette’s neck and shoulder instead, her mouth unable to form any type of wording. She grips Lexa’s body tighter as the tension between her shoulder blades subsides, spine relaxing into the girl’s strong hold. Tears of joy spill over her eyelids and she feels one of Lexa’s hands move to the base of her neck, nails gently grazing at the bottom of her hair as she shushes her with gentle coos and sweet words. Her arms feel safe, like home, and Clarke lets herself naturally fall into the comfort of it, closing her eyes with relief. Lexa adjusts, pulling her up.

“Come, Clarke.” Lexa coaxes gently. “Dinner is waiting and the ceremony is about to start.” She says, wiping the streaks from the blonde's face and Clarke follows her. She’d follow Lexa anywhere.

\---

The gathering is held in a surprisingly intimate setting with only the remaining warriors and their respective ambassadors in attendance. They bow graciously at the Skygirl and soon-to-be ex-Commander. Octavia is directly in Clarke’s line of sight while Ontari stands in Lexa’s. The paralleled mirroring is uncanny and an air of understanding seems to fall over the four of them, unbeknownst to the rest of the attendees.

 “My respected comrades,” Ontari steps forward to address the room. “You have been summoned to gather before myself and _Oktavia kom Skaikru_ as we honor the transfer of responsibility from one leader to a new one.”

“My time as _Natskaiheda_ has been short, but it is clear that the position will be better served with another in my place.” She speaks clearly, voice even as she renounces her title.

“We have chosen a new commander for our people.” The brunette announces, gesturing to the warrior at her side. “We, being not only Titus and myself, but the entirety of our people.” She explains, now gesturing to the room.

“Tonight, I will bestow upon our new _Heda,_ a title most fitting for her reign.” Ontari surveys the room before she straightens, standing tall for the last time.

“Let it be known that _Oktavia kom Skaikru_ will serve as _Gedanesheda_ , Commander of Unity, the new leader to our people.” She announces. Her eyes flicker to Lexa and Titus, who both give her the faintest nods.

“When I first took the throne, none of us wanted to trust the _Skaikru_. They renounced their claim as the 13 th clan, slaughtered our people, and were unforgiving in their actions.” Ontari continues, hand gripping the hilt of her sword with repressed anger.

Clarke deflates slightly, ashamed of her people, until she feels Lexa’s knuckles brush comfortingly against the back of her hand. There’s a small tilt of her lips, but her emerald orbs remain focused forward, eyes concentrating on the leaders at the head of the room. Clarke swallows her pain, returning her attention to the brunette’s words.

“For quite some time, we only trusted a select few members of the Sky people.” The leader continues, eyes falling to Clarke and for a moment, her brown eyes soften. “One of them, was _Oktavia_.” Ontari divulges. “You may recall her role as the second to _Indra kom Trikru,_ studying under her, versing herself in the customs and traditions of our people. When they were still foreign to us, Octavia wanted to understand. She wanted to find a place amongst us grounders, despite being regarded as the enemy.”

She sees Indra straighten, her jaw twitching as she schools her expression to be stoic and unaffected. But Clarke can tell that she’s proud, even if she won’t admit to it.

“After the attack, Octavia refused to let her people continue with their heinous crimes, working as a moderator to help us provide justice to those lives that were lost.” Ontari continues. “Charles Pike was defeated and _Oktavia_ devoted herself to repairing the bridge amongst our people. Her efforts were spent trying to unify our people again, noting that the actions of a few do not speak for the beliefs of the many.”

“Pike ruled by fear, something we are all accustomed to.” Ontari looks sympathetically at Roan and Clarke knows she’s referring to Queen Nia. “But now, is a time for change. We will lead no longer lead by fear, but by fairness. There shall be no room for corruption or underhandedness. We are a singular unit; a Coalition, one people.”  

“Today, I pass on the responsibility and the honor to protect that Coalition to Octavia.” She turns to the girl, holding out her forearm. Octavia turns, eyes filled with determination as she grasps it firmly, both brunettes offer a mutual nod to one another before letting go. Ontari lowers herself to the ground, bowing her head. The rest of the room follows soon after.

“Rise.” Octavia gives her first instruction as Commander and they all stand again. An indigenous looking woman steps forward from the crowd; a small container of paints in her hands. She stops in front of Octavia who lowers her chin, allowing for the elderly figure to reach forward, smearing streaks of red and blue across her forehead, across her eye, then diagonally to her cheekbone.

“ _Mafta op_.” The older woman instructs and Octavia nods obediently.

The ceremony consists mainly of lots of smoke and chanting of rapidly spoken _Trigedasleng_. Clarke, still too novice to pick up on such quick words, does her best to repeat each recitation as Lexa stands next to her, quietly whispering translations in her ear.

Octavia repeats each phrase after the woman speaks them, seeming to understand the dialogue easily. Clarke understands certain parts like “responsibility”, “compassion”, “duty”, and “sacrifice.” Mostly though, she gauges the conversation based on the reactions of the people in the room, mainly Lexa who catches her gazes, offering an encouraging smile. She remains transfixed on the blonde, eyes flitting down to Clarke’s pink lips.

The ceremony ends with some sort of rapid drumming, or maybe, it was just the sound of Clarke’s heart, threatening to tumble out of her chest after the intense locking of gazes with Lexa.

\---

The so-called dinner is much more than just a meal. It’s a feast with a freshly caught boar and two deer, grilled and charred to perfection. Baskets of bread, fruits, and vegetables are scattered between the dishes, adding pops of color amongst the browns and orange glow of the candelabras around them. Everything smells divine and Clarke’s mouth waters.

Octavia is sitting at the head of the table, Titus and Lincoln on either side of her. The same clan leaders are also in attendance, now sitting much more respectfully amongst one another, having settled their differences for the time being. Ontari is located to Clarke’s right with Lexa on her left, next to Titus.

Octavia and Titus share a look, rising before them.

‘Tonight, we honor _Gasensheda_ ,” The man prefaces.

“Octavia has proven herself to be almost immaturely passionate to a fault, sometimes stupidly headstrong, and yet, was the one of the only ones who refused to kill any of her opponents when given the chance.” Titus continues with a smile. Octavia rolls her eyes but allows him to make the jab. Clarke realizes that his relationship to each Commander was more than she had initially thought. She had been so enraged by the man and his disregard for her relationship with Lexa.

_Help me to protect her._

Maybe there was more under the surface that she would never quite understand, but for now, she is content with just listening, anxiously awaiting his next words.

“She refused to kill your people, your most honored representatives.” He explains. “She spared your people.”

A mumble of agreement choruses through the hall.

“Octavia has much to learn,” The man continues. “But she is on the right path; the path to a peaceful unity amongst all 13 clans. As the most trusted member of _Skaikru_ ,” Clarke takes it as a persona jab until she feels Lexa’s hand on her knee.

“Octavia still had the wisdom to know that Lexa would have been a better leader. This is promising and proves that she knows what our people need and will work to emulate that just as much.”

Clarke’s eyes widen. This was news to her. Octavia had actually given the position to Lexa and Lexa had refused, effectively turning it back over to Octavia. Lexa gives her knee a squeeze, under the table, sensing her surprise.  Green eyes glance quickly at her, giving her a look of warning. Clarke tries to return her expression to something resembling normalcy.

“Today we celebrate our new leader. Tomorrow, we discuss her request for additional advisors. But now, we eat.” He finishes, holding up a glass.

“To, Octavia of the Sky People.” He toasts.

 _“_ Hail, _Gedonesheda_.” The voices around her chant.

Clarke takes a generous gulp of her drink, not realizing it was alcohol. She hadn’t realized that the clans now were able to use the drink as a way of celebrating, having personally spent the last few months unable to find anything to be celebratory about. She had forgotten that the grounders had since been introduced to the liquid shortly after she had chugged her peace offering bottle in front of Lexa. The memory makes the burning in her throat hurt a bit less. The thought being able to celebrate a new start with Lexa eliminates it completely.  It’s not as strong as Monty’s moonshine, but still has a bit of a kick to it and Clarke feels her body getting lighter, spirit floating as she sits next to the brunette whose hand never leaves her knee, resting comfortably under the table as dinner progresses on.

Despite the vast offering of food, Clarke finds that the table is cleared much sooner than expected.

Large drums and sticks with jingling bells are brought in as the plates and trays are cleared away. Soon, a group of children follow with wraps on their hands and feet that make a brushing sound as they walk.

“Performers” Lexa whispers. “They tell the story of the previous Commanders.”

The little ones gather in front of a fire pit as the drums beat steadily.

“Will they tell your story?” The blonde asks curiously. Lexa shrugs.

“Mine is still being written.” The brunette gives her a warm smile.

It starts with _Beka_ _Primheda_ and progresses through the lineage with tales of victory, battle, and honor. When the timeline gets to Lexa’s reign, the atmosphere of the room seems to shift.

“ _Leksa kom Trikru,_ ” The smallest girl with mousy hair says, gesturing to her eyes, fingers spread as she reaches them above her head with symbolic meaning. “Creator of the Coalition who unified 12 of our clans.” Her voice is timid and Clarke can’t help but find it adorable.

She freezes when she sees ex-leader in the crowd and her mouth opens and closes nervously. “ _Leksa_.. uhh… _Leksa_ …”  She panics, trying to recall her next line.

A few eyes turn to the brunette but Lexa’s gaze remains trained on the little girl as she raises her brow encouragingly, gives her the sweetest of nods that somehow manages to make her green eyes twinkle.

The girl relaxes immediately and continues. Clarke swoons in sheer admiration at the brunette’s guiding ability with children.

The brunette lifts her cup to her lips, hiding her smile behind rim as she take another drink, acting as though nothing had happened, though Clarke knows that Lexa could feel the eyes on her. From the angle the blonde is at, she can still see the faintest tilt of plump lips as they press against the metal chalice. But the brunette refuses to speak, continuing to watch the routine before them.

Clarke follows with a drink of her own.

\---

The night wears on even after the performance. The drummers switch to entertain them with faster music and some sort of piper joins them, now situated on the floor along the sides of the room. They sit with their legs crossed as they beat away on their leather-wrapped instruments, a fiery tune floating around them.

It’s almost surreal, with the candles hanging from the chandeliers above them, genuine relief and peace around them. Clarke revels in it, content in watching the way the people dance with joy.

The tables had been shifted to allow for a makeshift dance floor where she sees  Octavia and Lincoln moving easily together. Clarke had never been properly taught how to dance, let alone to traditional grounder music, but Octavia seemed have already gotten the hang of it. To her surprise, it was as if the brunette could hear her thinking about her, pulling her forward before she has the chance to object.

Lexa stands upright by Titus, observing them, looking on with a bemused expression, quirking a brow. Clarke blushes as Octavia tries to maneuver her body into the proper positions. She feels like a damn fool, completely out of place. Octavia throws her head back as she laughs, Lincoln offering a sympathetic smile. Clarke even sees Indra in the corner, suppressing the urge to grin.

Maybe, for the sake of this moment, and the pure elation encircled around them, Clarke could let herself be embarrassed, embracing the humiliation. She looks down at her feet, boots clunky and tries again. She thinks she’s starting to get a better handle on the footwork when she feels a tap on her shoulder.

Lexa had taken pity on her, coming to her rescue with a brilliant smile that makes Clarke’s heart flutter.

“Like this, Clarke.” She explains, stepping lightly on the balls of her feet as she points heel then toe to the ground. She moves behind the blonde, unconcerned about who may be watching, as she guides them.

The brunette’s hands fall to her waist as they move together, Lexa whispering the steps intimately in her ear from behind. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Clarke suddenly feels herself warming up. With newfound courage, she spins to face the girl, their noses mere inches apart, chests pressed flush against one another.

Lexa’s cheeks redden and Clarke sees her throat bob slightly.

“You’re a good teacher, Lexa.” She husks. “You’re going to be a great advisor.” She compliments.

Lexa blinks stunned, flush of her cheeks deepening to almost scarlet red.

“ _Machof, Klarke_.” The brunette replies unsteadily, clearly affected by the raspy tone of Clarke’s voice.

They continue dancing, both girls resisting the urge to pull the other in for a chaste kiss. When the beat finally stills, Clarke yawns. The room had cleared significantly as most ambassadors had retired for the night. Ontari stands whispering to Roan while Octavia and Lincoln have returned to the table, speaking quietly amongst themselves. Titus is no longer around and neither is Indra. It’s just the few of them and in the silence, Clarke finally realizes just how tired she is.

“It’s late, Clarke.” Lexa says rather obviously.

The blonde simply nods, eyelids growing heavy.

“Let’s get you to bed.” The brunette suggests, taking the blonde by the hand, propriety thrown out the window. No one was really around that mattered anyway. No one, but Clarke, who entwines their fingers and lets herself be led away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about the next chapter. I already have it written, but I want to give this chapter some time to sit. Since the fic is almost done, I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate your comments, and though there were some that I found EXTREMELY DISCOURAGING, especially regarding Octavia, I hope that the majority of you still enjoyed the story and the direction I decided to go with to ensure that Clarke and Lexa would be able to safely be together.


	29. The Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two lovers get reacquainted with each other.   
> \---  
> Soundtrack: Lover by Truslow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. My hand slipped...

Clarke revels in the warmth that Lexa’s hand brings her as they make their way through the halls of the capital building, stealing glances at one another, a content curve forming against in the brunette’s lips. She gets caught admiring Lexa so many times that she loses count, completely satisfied in the fact that every time, Lexa was looking back as well.

They stop in front of the blonde’s bedroom door, grinning like young girls. For once, it’s easy and Clarke pulls Lexa behind her, quickly closing the door behind them. What was previously an empty room filled with scarring memories was now filled with light; an ethereal glow that only Lexa could emit.

The brunette gives her wrist a light tug, turning her to face her.

“We were born for this, Clarke.” Lexa smiles playfully.  

Clarke quirks a brow, not quite sure where the random thought spawned from. “To lead?” She asks.

Lexa shakes her head. “To love.” She corrects.  “But I am a great leader as well.” The grounder says cheekily with a smug upward tilt of her lips. The alcohol made her a little more open to being playful around the blonde. That, and the fact that they no longer needed to carry the burden of having the entire fate of their people weighing down on just their mere shoulders.

The blonde rolls her eyes, nudging the girl in the side teasingly.

Lexa shrivels over, wincing in pain.

“Oh God, Lexa!” Clarke panics. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot!” She reaches for Lexa’s shirt, raising it up to her ribcage and examining the wound and scar. “Are you alright?” She looks into green eyes. The grounder sheepishly breaks into a full smile, releasing a laugh. It’s light and airy, far from what one would expect from a Commander, but everything one would expect from _Lexa_.

“What the hell, Lexa?!” She cries out exasperated, trying to steady the anxiety in her chest. “You can’t do that!”  

“I’m sorry.” The brunette tries to school her grin back to a neutral expression as Clarke stomps away, crossing her arms in frustration.

“Clarke,” Lexa coaxes. “ _Niron_ , I’m sorry.” She says seriously. Clarke hears her footsteps approach behind her before Lexa places her hands on the blonde’s upper arms, rubbing them up and down until Clarke has relaxed her muscles, letting her hands return back down at her sides.

“I’m sorry.” Lexa says again, ducking her head to offer a genuine look and the blonde feel that familiar pull as she gravitates into the brunette’s embrace.

“I just feel so…” Lexa pauses, with an easy smile on her lips. The blonde looks up when she stops speaking, words suspended in the air. Clarke can see that her eyes are resting on her observantly meeting her blue ones, and full of adoration.

“Free? Happy?” The blonde offers to finish the statement for her, simultaneously voicing her own thoughts.

The grounder’s smile widens, though she shakes her head.  “More than that, I feel c _omplete_.” Lexa corrects.

Clarke’s heart flutters as her eyes fall to the brunette’s lips for an instant. 

“I’ve missed you.” Lexa confesses and blue eyes return to meet adoring green.

“I never left.” Clarke points out. “ _You_ did.” She notes, acknowledging the grounder’s lapse in memory.

Lexa shakes her head in objection. “I did not. I was always with you.” She insists. “It just took a while for my mind to catch up with my heart.” She contests. “But I am here, as I always was.” She places her fingers gently atop Clarke’s chest, resting where her thudding heart beat proudly.

Clarke wraps her own hand around Lexa’s calloused one.

“Stay.” She requests. _Never leave._  “Promise me.”

Lexa nods and Clarke pulls her closer until their foreheads are touching. “ _Ai swega klin._ I swore fealty to you, _Klark kom Skaikru._ Anything you need, anything you want, I need and I want too.” She pledges, eyes fleeting down to thin pink lips.

“I want _you_.” The blonde says plainly. “Just you.”

Clarke wraps her hand around Lexa’s wrist, pulling the brunette’s hand to graze under her shirt, and Lexa’s thumb instinctually rubs gently against the blonde's hip bones as her eyes flutter shut. Both girls content in holding the other close, revealing in the moment their hearts had been longing for ever since they met again.

“ _Ai laik yun_.” Lexa brushes her nose against Clarke’s, waiting millimeters away from her with patient lips. “ _Otaim_.” She promises and the blonde meets her mouth more than willingly. She feels Lexa sigh, body relaxing as they fall into one another. _I am yours. Always._

When they pull apart, Lexa is frowning, brushing her thumb against the rise of Clarke’s cheekbone. Furrowing her brow, Clarke is surprised to find that her cheeks are wet and the brunette kisses each fallen tear as her own escape from earnest green eyes.

“Look at us.” The blonde laughs through a sniffle, wiping desperately at both of their faces. She was crying just as hard, if not harder than Lexa had been when they first made love. But God, she was so full of love in this moment. So full of Lexa and she wanted to drown herself in her lover.

“Yes.” Lexa nods with a smile. “Look at _us._ ” _We are together again._ Emerald orbs silently whisper.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Clarke brings herself to stand flush against Lexa’s elegant frame, pressing their lips together, gliding her tongue gently over Lexa’s bottom one. They part eagerly as a soft whimper escapes with each breath of Clarke that she takes in.

The blonde gives her all she can with Lexa reciprocating just as equally. As they pull apart, hearts pounding and eyes hooded, she feels the brunette brushing her thumb against her sides, grasping at her curves just a little more firmly. Her entire body is buzzing.

She looks into her lover’s inquiring green eyes and nods her consent. When their lips meet again, she can feel the upward curve of them as they move succinctly together. It tastes like light and warmth and Clarke lets herself burn, releasing the airiest sigh.

Blindly taking a step backwards, she feels the back of her knees make contact with the bed as she shifts to settle atop the furs with Lexa bent over her, propping her weight on her elbows, not wanting to place too much weight on the blonde. Clarke chuckles into their still connected lips and Lexa draws back, furrowing her brow.

“Closer.” The blonde encourages, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist before pulling her to rest all of her weight on top of her body. She wanted _all_ of Lexa. She wanted Lexa in her skin, encasing her body with strength and protection. She wanted Lexa to be buried in her heart, pumping life and reason into her existence. She wanted Lexa entwined in her soul, purely and completely as two parts formed one whole.

Lexa nods, obliging to her request. Fingertips brush against delicate skin with candlelight refracting over her soft complexion while Lexa glows above her. Goosebumps arise over the brunette’s body and Clarke soothes the shivering by pushing herself against Lexa, allowing the heat between their bodies to encase them in a private moment intended just for them. 

She shifts slightly, Lexa following as she leans back to allow the blonde beneath her to fully sit up. Clarke guides the brunette’s trembling hands to steady against the hem of her shirt, nodding genuinely. Soon her shirt finds its way to the floor as she reaches up to do the same for the brunette, removing the article of clothing over her head, tossing it aside before bringing them together against one another, flesh to flesh, for another passionate kiss.

Lexa, despite her years of training for battle and participation in countless wars, is still the embodiment softness and purity. Clarke takes a moment to appreciate the phenomenon, toned arms and stomach, strong legs, encapsulated in a delicate frame of feminine features and curves, marked with intricate designs of black on tan skin. She brushes her hand against the small of Lexa’s back where she knows the end of her tattoo resides, loving the way the brunette shivers from her touch.

Clarke is content in the way that their lips move against one another; so easily, and so tenderly, and so inherently Lexa. The brunette pecks her lips once before drawing back and moving down Clarke’s neck, peppering sweet kisses along her pulse and collarbone. It’s done in a way that only Lexa could, interlacing their fingers as she continues down the blonde’s body. She feels her everywhere, senses overwhelmed yet peacefully enveloped in a way that still felt like Lexa all the same.

A hand reaches behind her, skillfully unhooking her bra as it tumbles away. Lexa takes a moment to attend to the blonde’s now exposed chest, her plump lips gracing over sensitive buds as she latches onto her lover. Her tongue swirls slowly, free hand attending to the other breast, massaging lightly. Clarke’s chest is heaving, senses overwhelmed with pleasure that ends all too soon when Lexa moves down her stomach, trailing kisses the entire way until she pauses above the hemline of Clarke’s pants, deft fingertips resting on the button. Clarke gives her another nod.

“ _Beja, Leksa_.” She pleads and Lexa obliges eagerly, stripping her bare beneath the topless brunette. They fall back into the cushion of fur, hearts fluttering with each intake of breath. Lexa surges forward to meet her in a bruising passionate kiss that leaves Clarke breathless, already anticipating what’s next to come. The brunette shuffles slightly, making her way down the blonde’s curves, kissing everywhere she can before readjusting to fit herself in the space between Clarke’s legs.

She guides Clarke’s thighs apart, pressing gently against her with her thumbs rubbing tenderly over her knee. A slender finger grazes over Clarke’s heated center and her hips involuntarily buck in response, rewarding the brunette with a sense of satisfaction that clearly sparkles through her smiling green eyes.

Piercing emerald orbs gaze with a hooded expression as Lexa bites her lip, drinking in the blonde’s reaction to her fingers that continuously trail over Clarke’s most sensitive area, occasionally placing soothing kisses on her inner thigh. Clarke’s heart rate skips with each touch until she can’t take it anymore, reaching down to tangle her hands in the brunette’s hair.

“ _Leska_.” She rasps and the brunette wastes no time as she attaches her lips to Clarke, sucking gently with her fingers slip between warm, wet folds. The blonde releases a satisfied moan, encouraging Lexa to continue with the rock of her hips.

Lexa uses her free hand to hold her steady, pumping her long fingers in and out of the blonde at a deliciously slow, steady rate. Clarke’s senses heighten, rolling her torso in sync with the brunette’s rhythm, encouraging her to go deeper. The grounder whimpers in response and Clarke can tell that Lexa is enjoying this just as much as she is, abiding to her silent request as she reads the ticks and hums of Clarke’s body.

The brunette angles her wrist to allow herself better access, curling her fingers to press against the spot inside Clarke that sets her entire body aflame. Lexa’s tongue swipes over her sensitive bud and Clarke gasps, frantically tugging on the hair of the brunette between her legs as her insides pulse rapidly, nearing her release. She feels the brunette curl her fingers and Clarke’s body keens in response. Her mouth falls open with a desperate intake of breath as she pants, body tensing before she comes apart. Her final climax escapes from her lips in the form of a deep, throaty moan.

Lexa coaxes her down with immaculate care, swiping her tongue gingerly against her satisfied core. Clarke twitches with each aftershock, finally having to push the brunette away. Lexa crawls up to meet her, lips placed upon parted lips, capturing them in a delicate press. Blue eyes darken as Clarke gets a hint of the lingering tastes of herself on her lover’s lips.

Lexa shuffles to roll off of the blonde, pulling Clarke to rest against her side, clearly content with simply pleasing the sky girl. _Selfless_.

“Lay here.” The grounder urges, wrapping an arm around Clarke’s still vibrating frame, fingertips tracing invisible patterns on the blonde’s shoulder. The blonde allows herself a moment to recover, taking solace in the feeling of trained arms protectively embracing her body.

The brunette’s eyes close, her chest rising and falling in sync with her content breath. Clarke takes a moment to observe her. There’s a miniscule upward tilt of her mouth, placid and relaxed expression upon her face. A light sheen of sweat coats her forehead. Lexa’s cheeks are still flushed and pink, all the way to the tip of her nose. Her rosy complexion makes her seem that much softer, despite the cutting harsh lines of her jaw. Lexa is captivating and Clarke can no longer resist the urge to kiss her again. And so she does.

She kisses the brunette’s jawline, nipping lightly until she comes to her chin. Lexa’s eyes are wide open now, and Clarke rolls herself on top of the brunette, mindful of her bandages. She tilts her head up, nudging the brunette’s nose with her own. Even though her own eyes are closed, she can still tell that Lexa is smiling and less than a second later, loving lips meet hers, moving softly together.

Soon, Clarke’s mouth parts, tongue grazing over the grounder’s bottom lip. The kiss soon grows heated, tongues battling but in the end, Lexa willingly concedes. Clarke leans back, drawing her fingers over the brunette’s ribcage as her mouth follows leaving behind a path of open mouthed kisses across her chest stopping at the angry scar just above her navel. She freezes, looking up at Lexa with teary eyes, overwhelmed by her emotions and the memories of the near-loss. The brunette cups her cheek, brushing her thumb over the rise of Clarke’s cheekbone as she silently responds with affectionate green eyes.

 _It’s okay._ They ease. _I’m here. I’m with you._

Clarke tilts her head slightly so that her lips are now where her cheek had been, placing a kiss on the girl’s palm before switching to place even more on the faded bullet wound.

 _I know._ Each kisses says. _I’m yours. I’m with you._

She links a finger through the brunette’s belt loop, giving it a small upward tug and Lexa lifts her hips to allow her more access to remove the finally articles of clothing separating them. She lies in the bed of furs completely exposed and raw for Clarke to see, to feel, to love.

When her mouth meets its final destination, the brunette shudders, whimpering slightly as her hands grip desperately at the furs beneath her, hips rolling with aching need. Clarke soothes her, blindly reaching up to interlace their fingers, grounding the girl to her while hooking the brunette’s legs over her shoulders.

“I’ve got you.” She breaks away for a moment to whisper against the brunette’s center, placing a kiss on her pelvic bone. “It’s okay, Lexa. You’re okay.” She promises before returning back to where Lexa is throbbing for her. 

Lexa’s breathing quickly grows ragged as Clarke’s tongue continues to work. She does her best to keep it to soft earnest caresses as she takes more of Lexa with each touch. And Lexa keeps giving, keeps offering Clarke her everything until she finally arches.

A breathy “Clarke” tumbles from her lips as she comes, hips jerking forward while her stomach clenches, body shuddering before pulling the blonde up to meet her lips in a heated kiss.

Clarke adjusts the feel of the kiss, tuning into the way Lexa’s body reacts to her touch. Fingertips trace over smooth breasts, cupping lightly when the brunette’s breathing grows needy again. She can tell that Lexa has recovered when the brunette presses her thigh against Clarke’s wanting center, now aching for more.

Clarke welcomes it with a satisfied groan, still turned on by the brunette after watching her release. She feels Lexa shaking beneath her, and she moves to press her knee against the brunette, rocking slowly.

“Together.” Lexa pleads with green eyes full of affection.

Clarke presses their foreheads against each other as she pants back her response.  “ _Ogeda_.” She agrees.

It doesn’t take long, both girls completely intoxicated by the sensation of the other pressed to her. Lexa’s mouth finds her neck, sucking lightly before meeting her lips. She breathes heavily through her nose as their hips continue to move.

It hits them both at once as they collapse into each other, lips struggling to stay attached as they gasp against each other in complete ecstasy.

When her focus finally comes back to take in her surroundings, Clarke rolls onto her back, pulling Lexa to lie on top of her. She buries her face in the wild brunette hair that is tickles her nose and neck, giggling softly. She loves the smell of mint and honey, Earth and musk. She inhales her lover as she places a gentle kiss on the brunette’s forehead, calming her by affectionately rubbing her upper back.

The grounder smiles gratefully in adoration, circling one arm lazily across Clarke’s stomach and waist. Lexa rests her head on the blonde’s bare chest as she starts tracing mindless patterns on her skin; first on her ribs, up to the swells of her chest, and across her collarbones, all while keeping her ear pressed to Clarke’s heart.

“Lexa?” The blonde whispers gently into their intimate space.

“ _Sha, niron_?” The grounder replies sleepily, eyes blinking slowly, fighting with great effort to remain open.

“Did you ever think about how dangerous it was if you were to be with me?” Clarke asks hesitantly. “That it really _could_ have killed you?”

Lexa’s fingers pause in their movement. “Constantly.” She says with a sad smile, raising her head to meet the blonde’s somber blue eyes. “But I also knew that _not_ being with you, most definitely _would_.” Green eyes reply back earnestly.

Clarke can’t help but brings their lips together, overcome with pure happiness.

“I have lived an entire lifetime dedicated to my people, putting their needs before my own.” Lexa continues. “I don’t want to do that anymore. There is only one person I want to serve, one person whose needs I care about.” The brunette says sincerely. “That person is you, Clarke. I want this lifetime with you.” Lexa confesses and Clarke can hear just how genuine she is. The blonde’s face breaks into a wide grin, cheeks turning red.

Clarke feels like she’s flying.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to remember.” Lexa apologies. “And for me to return.” She adds, the intense green in her eyes shines; completely alive now. “You were so patient. And I…” Her eyes begin to water at the thought.

The blonde shakes her head, stopping her before more tears fall. “Hey,” she coaxes. “You don’t have to apologize.”  Clarke assures. “I just hoped that maybe someday...”

This time, Lexa cuts her off with a brilliant glimmer in her eyes. “ _This_ is our someday.” She says genuinely. Blue eyes meet tender green, welling with joyful tears. She lifts her head, jutting her chin out and the brunette easily meets her, lips connecting, dancing together.

 _I love you._ They say with each tender kiss against her skin as she flips them over, gently pressing her weight atop the blonde’s curves. Her hands start to trail south and Clarke throws her arm over her eyes as her body betrays her, bucking eagerly.

“Oh God.” Clarke pants, already embarrassingly ready for another release. “Lexa!” She begs, fingers wrapping around the brunette’s wrist to direct her hand down faster.

Lexa simply laughs that light, airy laugh that Clarke so often longed to hear. It’s perfect. _Lexa is perfect._

And right now, she’s crawling down her body, on a mission to satisfy her lover.

For the first time, absolutely _everything_ feels right.  
\--

Clarke wakes, rubbing the crusts of sleep from her eyes. Next to her, Lexa lies splayed out on her stomach, one hand curled in a ball by her face, the other, arm still wrapped around the small of Clarke’s back. The blonde pushes up to her elbows, leaning over the sleeping brunette to paint kisses along the dark circles across her spine. Lexa hums in satisfaction, half consciously taking a deep, slow breath.

“Good morning.” The brunette yawn, voice raspy and still coated with sleep.

“It is.” Clarke smiles into the girl’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep.” She urges. Lexa never got to sleep in when she was the Commander. She always had duties to attend to, people needing her assistance, meetings to hold, and young Nightbloods to train. For once, her responsibilities were to herself; her needs, her desires, which coincidentally were Clarke’s as well.

The brunette nods sleepily, rubbing her face into the soft pillows beneath her as her breathing returns back to a low, shallow pattern. It’s actually incredibly endearing and Clarke lies there just watching for a while until she gets hit with a spark of inspiration.

Taking care not to make too much noise as she gathers the art supplies off the table, grabbing the easel from the corner of the room, the blonde makes her way to the balcony. The sun has just started to creep over the horizon, silhouetting the quiet streets in glowing oranges and soft pinks.

She draws the view of city in these serene moments, framing the page with the curtains fluttering in the wind, a hint of Lexa’s shadow in the very corner of the page. To anyone looking, the focus would be on the landscape, but to Clarke, it’s on the imaginary feeling she pictures so clearly of Lexa standing by her side, overlooking the city with her.

Clarke is almost finished with her work when Lexa wakes fully, giving her a hug from behind, kissing her on her shoulder, then her neck right below her ear, whispering “Clarke” into her skin, ending with a final kiss upon her temple. It’s warm, safe, and simple, something they so rarely got to feel. She basks in it, setting down the charcoal before placing her hands over the brunette’s slender ones resting on her stomach.

Lexa sways them gently, the breeze carrying the warm scent of morning sun to twirl around them. The brunette sighs contently and the blonde spins to face her, finally getting to see those green eyes. It had been less than eight hours ago, yet, Clarke felt like she couldn’t live without seeing them. The way the golden yellows of sunlight reflects across them only adds to Lexa’s already unworldly beauty.

“Sleep well?” Clarke asks teasingly.

“Excellent.” Lexa smirks, playing along, but there’s still a hint of a blush on her cheeks. She looks so young and so pure. _And Clarke loves her._

“Me too.” The blonde smiles back, momentarily losing herself in breathtaking green eyes.

“What were you drawing?” The brunette inquires, glancing over her shoulder at the propped easel.

“My second home.” Clarke answers bashfully.

“Your _second_ home?” Lexa repeats, quirking a brow, puzzled.

“Yeah.” Clarke nods. “I already drew my first one.” The blonde admits coyly.

_I drew you._

Lexa’s lips rise at the sides and the brunette absolutely illuminates after hearing the explanation. For what seems like the billionth time, Clarke melts, softening into Lexa’s steady hold as the brunette leans forward, cupping her cheek while she brushes their noses together before leaving an intimate kiss upon pretty pink lips.

“You are my home too, _niron_.”  Lexa confesses. “I love you.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_.” Clarke returns.

\---

Lexa waits patiently for Clarke to finish drawing the city in various shades on the torn parchment before ushering her to the bath where handmaidens had prepared an arrangement of towels and soaps for the two to use before going to attend the morning’s meetings.

Even after their nights together, the brunette still blushes shyly before slipping into the warm water, sitting against the back of the tub to make room for the blonde to join her. She offers up a hand to allow Clarke to climb in, assisting her as she settles back to Lexa’s front with a content breath.

This is how it’s supposed to be, she thinks. This is everything they didn’t get to have the first time around.

Lexa’s places a tender kiss upon her bare shoulder before gathering up a washcloth and soap to massage against the blonde’s back. Clarke closes her eyes, relaxing into the feeling of her lover’s attentive hands bathing her. When she’s finished, she moves down each of Clarke’s arms, ending at her fingers. Each time, Lexa interlaces their fingers before bringing their hands up to her lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of Clarke’s knuckles. It’s so gentle that the blonde could cry, but instead, she tilts her head to look behind her, blue eyes falling into forest green as Lexa smiles affectionately back at her. The brunette rubs their noses together before finishing up, giving Clarke’s thighs a squeeze to signal that she clean and ready to go.

Clarke adjusts, moving to the other side of the tub to allow the brunette enough room to bath herself. She leans her arms over the ledge of the tub, head resting in the crook of her elbow as she watches the grounder with awe. Her eyes rake over long limber arms and long legs as the washcloth glides over Lexa’s body, only breaking away when she feels a small splash of water on her face. She looks up to see Lexa smirking in amusement.

Clarke purses her lips, unable to come up with an excuse as to why she’d been caught gawking, not that Lexa really seemed to care. The brunette chuckles, standing with her back to the blonde as she extracts herself from the now cooling water.

After wrapping a towel around her torso, she turns to the blonde, holding out her hand. “Come, _niron_.” She ushers. “We must meet with Octavia to finalize her plans.”

Clarke nods reluctantly, stepping out of the tub while Lexa wraps a soft towel around her body, giving her a squeeze.

After re-wrapping the brunette’s wound and dressing one another, which admittedly took longer than necessary, both girls not quite wanting to leave the privacy of their room, the lovers set out for the meeting hall where breakfast and the rest of the ambassadors would be waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wanted to wait to post this on the weekend, but I got too excited. I'm going to have to work on my self-control for the final chapter.


	30. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.  
> \---  
> Soundtrack: This by Ed Sheeran

The council meeting begins promptly as the very last plate is cleared away. When all have settled, an air of formality falls over the bunch as Octavia stands at the head of the table and all eyes turn to her. She clears her throat with a twitch of her lips. Titus gives her an encouraging nod and she returns it, straightening.

  
“Now that everybody’s been fed, I think it’s time to address a couple of important matters.” The brunette announces. Clarke can tell that she’s trying to sound more official, but the proper verbiage is still something she needs work on. Nonetheless, Titus gives her a tilt of his head, urging her to continue.

  
“First, the City of Light.” She prefaces. “I stand by the decisions made by Ontari, Lexa, and Clarke to destroy the City to help preserve the present. Your people were lucky enough to be spared from the corruption that it caused. But I saw, firsthand, what it could do. I saw who it hurt, how it took over their lives and made them lose everything, including themselves.” Her eyes well slightly and for a moment, Clarke is worried that her weakness would trigger disapproval amongst the other leaders, but the brunette hardens quickly, straightening. The blonde herself feels her heart grow heavy. She misses Jasper and knows exactly what Octavia is thinking. It wasn’t fair. This world was never fair, even if they were working towards making it so.

  
A warm hand slips into her own underneath the table and she feels Lexa give her a squeeze, thumb brushing against her own. She allows her lover to comfort her, relaxing into the gentle touch and reassuring pressure against her palm as she pulls the girl’s hand into her lap.

“Believe me when I say, they had you in mind when they went to bring an end to that corrupt place. Trust me when I say, it was necessary.” Octavia’s voice cracks, but she persists. “The City could control the smartest, the strongest, and the most loyal and turn them into slaves to a monster. That monster was named ALIE.” Octavia details. “She targeted the Sky People first and was willing to kill and manipulate all of them for absolute control and power. She was ready to turn us against one another just for the sake of her own gain. She wanted to rid us of emotions, numb us to feeling anything. It had to end and it was for the better.”

The room stirs with quiet murmurs.

“I realize that the City was a sacred concept to the Commanders, but when some Commanders point out the dangers of it, we need to realize they must’ve had a justified reason for it. So there’s no reason to keep arguing over it now.” She says with finality. “What’s done is done. No fingers need to be pointed and no one needs to be blamed. That’s why, for my first order, I am pardoning Ontari kom Azgeda, Lexa kom Trikru, and Clarke kom Skaikru for their actions.”

More muttering.

“But for the rest of my orders, until the rest of my reign, everything will be decided by us.” She gestures to the room. And an air of revelation arises.

  
“A governing body shouldn’t just be one person. It puts too much pressure on one person and it doesn’t necessarily benefit the people. Having one person control everyone else isn’t always the best way to deal with things. We are a Coalition, a group. The government should be a unit too. Like Ontari had said before, we are a unity.” Octavia emphasizes.

  
“That is why I want you, the ambassadors, to participate in making the political decisions for our people. I want you to help me so I can help you. I also want to make sure things are fair, so I’ll be choosing another person from each of the clans to join as my council of advisors: non-leaders.” she clarifies.

  
“Non-leaders like warrior’s seconds, healers, farmers, and hunters. We could all learn from each other to make our existence peaceful.” The brunette continues carefully. “We need to learn to accept each other and not differentiate between clans or hierarchy. There’s something worthwhile that everybody can contribute.” She insists and Clarke can’t help but let out a breath of relief. From the looks of it, Octavia was going to be alright. In the past, the ambassadors, though they served as clan leaders, still had to take the Commander’s orders as final rule. Now, with all of the ambassadors as her guide, Octavia might be able to finally bring a unified group together.

  
“For this to work, communication is key. I’m going to have our best mechanic build radio towers so that we can all signal and speak to each other about anything that might require immediate attention. They can also be used to facility business and trade amongst us.” She informs. “I want us to work together. Raven will teach you how to maintain our technology so that we can build a better future.” Octavia continues, divulging further into her plans.

  
“I promise we’ll only build where it’s absolutely necessary and the rest of your clans’ land will be left alone.” She pledges.

  
“I also want to offer the capital to my council and you advisors. If you want, Polis is your home. You’re free to stay here permanently or during any gatherings we might have.” She looks specifically at Clarke and Lexa. “By keeping everything open, I’m putting a lot of trust in you. I hope that you can put that same trust in me too. I may have come from Skaikru, but I feel like more of a grounder at heart.” She confesses. “And I’m going to prove my loyalties to our people, all of them.” The warrior assures.

  
Of course, there are a lot of logistics to work out with a new Commander, relationships that will be tested, trust to be earned, and of course, rules to be set. So as the meeting progresses, the rest of the morning is spent discussing as such. But Clarke is happy with the outcome, glad that the burden and the honor are to be shared amongst a group, rather than resting on a single person’s shoulder. It’s too much to carry.  
I bear it so they don’t have to.

  
When the meeting concludes, Lexa makes a promise help Octavia and offer her guidance, but makes it clear that she has a duty and it’s to Clarke. It makes the blonde’s heart swell to hear the profession declared out loud. It may not be to the public entirely, but it’s still to someone other than intimately between themselves. Octavia nods in understanding, giving Clarke a smile. The blonde dips her head, blushing slightly. She could live the rest of her life like this and be perfectly content.

And this time, they’re going to get that chance.

As the couple leave for the afternoon, the blonde turns to the grounder at her side, eyeing her curiously.

“Yes, Clarke?” The brunette quirks her brow, sensing a pair of blue eyes studying her carefully.

“One thing I don’t understand.” The blonde ponders.

“And that is?” Lexa coaxes.

“How did you know it would be Octavia?” Clarke says inquisitively.

“She is young, easily swayed,” Lexa points out. “Impulsively passionate, but most of all, refused to kill anyone innocent. The critical part being the latter. “ She explains. “Traditionally, the mentality of our people was kill or be killed.”

“Jus drein jus daun.” Clarke nods knowingly.

“Exactly.” The brunette agrees. “But the refusal of that, a belief that you enstilled, that’s what we have been looking for from the beginning. Leaders who want to find a better way; a way for us to liv e in harmony.” She says softly.

“That was our ultimate goal for peace.” Lexa says chuckling slightly. “Octavia also reminds me of myself when I was younger.” She adds with a tilt of her lips.

“Yeah?” Clarke’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Much younger. Maybe 11 or 12.” The brunette smirks. “But she will learn, with proper instruction.”

Clarke feels a small smile tug at her lips in agreement. Lexa pauses for a moment. The blonde can tell there’s something more she wants to say.

“What is it?” She tilts her head curiously.

“You told me to trust her. Your judgment was sound and unmoving. I knew it had to mean something if you held her to such high esteem.” She professes. “That’s how I knew. There are certain things that I have always felt that I knew, simply because of you.”

Her features soften as emerald orbs hone in on gentle blue. It means so much more than just that. Being around Clarke had brought her strength and that strength is what gave her love and power to remember everything between them.

She feels herself melt at the grounder’s simple words that always tend to hold more meaning under the surface.

“I knew from the first moment we met that you would be the one. And I told you as such.” She teases, eyes sparkling in amusement.

You’re the one who burned 300 of my warriors alive.

You’re the one who sent them there to kill us.

“And so did I.” She returns playfully as she slips her hand into the brunette’s. Lexa brings their interlaced fingers to her lips, placing a tender kiss on Clarke’s knuckles, causing her to blush in return.

It feels like a lifetime ago, and in a sense, it was. Because this life was for them, Clarke and Lexa only.  
\---

The following days are filled with more meetings. Per Octavia’s request, Raven, Sinclair, Bellamy, Abby, Kane, and Monty soon join them in Polis to help with executing the new Commander’s plans. Delegates from the other 12 clans also come to the capital to collaborate with them. During their stay, lasting for a few weeks, the tower is filled in multiple bedrooms and chambers, bustling with life and cooperation. The blonde takes comfort in being surrounded by all the people she loves and all the people that love her working together to achieve an amalgamation for peace.

Of the Arkadians, Raven and Sinclair are the only two who insist on beginning their work the second they arrive. The mechanic and engineer team up to build another rover for the grounders to use and Bellamy stays to help with the physical manpower, making up for his lack of superior intelligence with what he can compensate in strength, lugging scraps of metal to and from the temporary workshop that has been put in place for the pair. Sometimes Clarke and Lexa help where they are able to, screwing in nuts, tightening screws. But the brunette still refuses to go near the mechanic when she mentions the car battery, “battery” being the trigger for her hesitance. The Latina simply throws back her head in laughter and even Clarke has to bite her lip to resist giggling at how adorable Lexa was, eyeing the metal contraption with distain. In the end, she wraps her arms around the tense grounder, giving her waist a gentle squeeze until she relaxes and they continue on with their work.

Monty sets off with Lincoln to seek out the Trikru and visit their leaders to exchange planting and crop harvesting techniques. Their goal is to yield the highest outcome of food for the upcoming months, working on plans to implement an irrigation system along a variety of village borders, allowing for travelers as well as citizens to openly trade long the route. The calculation and risk analysis had never been something Clarke found particularly interesting, but she attends their meetings hosted in the capital, to Lexa’s request. She sees the brunette gives a warm nod to the younger boy from across the table as they look over maps of various territories. It’s so easy for Lexa, and Clarke knows they are going to be in good hands.

Abby and Kane, on the other hand, spent their first day upon arrival exploring Polis with Clarke and Lexa acting as their tour guides. It’s nice seeing her mother smiling and happy, offering soft smiles to the man walking at her side, one hand on the small of her back as they stroll through the cobbled streets. The blonde takes it upon herself to initiate contact between herself and her lover, who stays a proper distance away from her, out of respect for her mother’s protective eyes. Clarke just takes her hand, interlacing their fingers. She doesn’t care who sees. They’ve wasted enough time and she doesn’t intent to lose any more of it. Every moment spent with Lexa was to be cherished.

Everything starts to fall into place and before she knows it, the majority of the Commander of Unity’s plans have been set in motion.

“Are you going to come back with us?” Abby asks on their final evening together. She stands with her bag over her shoulder, Marcus at her side. She looks between Clarke and Lexa, searching for an answer that neither girl knows the answer to. Bellamy and Raven had opted to stay in Polis while Sinclair returned to Arkadia. Bellamy had insisted that he wanted to be with his sister.

“My sister, my responsibility.” He justified. But Clarke knew it was more than that. It was the fact that he would miss her too much. And Raven too, who was staying to help with maintenance and to continue installation of various radio sites and antenna systems.

Blue eyes travel across each waiting person’s expectant features. She’s is torn because she knows that Lexa is a grounder and wouldn’t feel happy with being in Arkadia for too long.

“That’s Lexa’s decision.” She finally decides, turning to her lover. “What do you want?”

The brunette gives her a tender smile, eyes glittering when she responds. “Home is anywhere that we are together.” She insists. “I am content anywhere with you.”

Clarke feels her cheeks heating up at the romantic gesture that her mother now witnessed, but the doctor just pulls them into her arms, giving them both a warm hug, kissing their foreheads while holding them in a mother’s embrace. She decides to stay in Polis, knowing that Arkadia is already in good hands.

\---

“So are we going to have our happy ending now?” The blonde asks, naked body pressed to the brunette’s. She brushes away a stray hair from her slightly damp hairline, allowing herself to get lost in green eyes. “Now that you’ve declined the throne?” She traces her fingers down to caress the smooth skin of Lexa’s cheek.

“No.” Lexa says in a deadpan. The blonde stiffens, heart shattering and she’s about to roll off of the girl, until delicate fingers wrap around her wrist, tugging her back

“Clarke.” Lexa whispers. She sees that the brunette’s eyes are still shining brightly, lips tugged up into a smile. “This is not our ending. It is our beginning, Sonchagapa.” she places a tender kiss upon Clarke’s lips. Clarke melts into her arms, leaning into the warmth the grounder emitted. Lexa protectively encircles her arms around Clarke’s waist sighing contently as the blonde rests her forehead against the brunette’s.

“I love you.” She soothes. “Our story is still being written.” She emphasizes, referring to the words she had spoken the previous night.

The blonde nods.

Finally, they are free to be two girls, no titles, just Clarke and Lexa. Together. Souls, hands and limbs, hearts and minds, completely _teina_.

**The Beginning.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know what teina means in Trigedasleng, you should google it. ;) Thanks everybody who read and stuck around for the journey. I'm sad it's over, but also relieved. Hopefully this brought you a little closure.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay in touch!  
> Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07BB6DFXN  
> Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17449889.Jessica_Yeh  
> Facebook: facebook.com/JessicaYehWrites/  
> 


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